God damn Hudson and god damn his French cousin. Don Juan had been going to suggest Paris as a romantic gesture, forgetting it was just another humdrum location for him. He vaguely recalled the wedding, but he'd forgotten the date, obviously, and he wasn't sure he'd known that it was in France. Well, fuck it; he had a few more days to plan something, then, and Hudson probably wouldn't have been keen on his method of travel anyway (a black market portkey — going to Paris wasn't illegal and he didn't intend to do anything illegal while he was there, but who had time to fill out requisition forms?)

He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Monday night?" A night on a work day wasn't exactly a getaway — but really he'd been kidding himself with that idea in the first place anyway. He was never going to convince Hudson to take a Friday off to spend time with him. The plans he'd been loosely formulating were getting less grand and less romantic by the moment. Maybe just dinner at a nice restaurant? He could have gotten a cabin or a flat for the night too, but he wasn't sure what amenities he could seek out in a day rental that weren't already available to them here. Maybe it was enough just to get Hudson away from his work for a second, though — Don Juan observed with buried exasperation that even though he'd come in the evening Dean was still working.

"Do you ever take a break?" he asked, gesturing towards the document. (Little wonder, perhaps, that Hudson begrudged him his fun).

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