The way Hudson furrowed his brows while he thought looked so serious. Don Juan wasn't sure whether he ought to be touched by that, or exasperated by the idea that Hudson thought he would regularly require someone to come and save him from himself, for lack of a better word. But then — he supposed he didn't have much evidence towards the conclusion that he was a self-sufficient, emotionally well-regulated adult who made responsible decisions. Perhaps he ought to be touched.

"I'll endeavor not to become a widower again while you're busy," he said. He meant it as a joke, but his tone didn't end up quite as light-hearted as he'd wanted it to be; maybe some of the exasperation he wasn't fully entitled through was showing through in the hard edges. He frowned and shifted in the bed, jostling Hudson's head slightly so that it was only resting on one leg instead of properly in his lap. He didn't actually want to be petty, but he didn't know how to dispel the lingering feeling of it in the air. "I'm getting a cigarette," he decided. "You want one?"

---