RP:Construction Begins

House near Kelay

Hudson could manage a map. The problem was not in his directional abilities but rather in his tendency to stop for a pint. He would have been at Alvina's laboratory three hours ago but for said tendency. No matter; he's just dropping by. She wouldn't be expecting him, and in any event, he always prefers to work a little tipsy. For creativity purposes, he tells himself. Surely that could be proven by science (but by someone else, because he'll be too busy having pints and putting blind faith in the process). In any event, he's here now, here being the laboratory, and rather than simply burst in like the Kool Aid Man, he knocks politely on the exterior door. He's casually dressed in clothes that wouldn't matter if something exploded on them. "Alvina! It's Huds," he calls out.

Alvina sat at a wooden work table, scarred with the charred marks of inspiration and heavy tools. Long rivets of splinted wood sectioned the table almost completely in two in places, instruments were scattered everywhere around her, the small bits of dust that had settled on the floor where disturbed only by her footprints. Huds' voice broke through her thoughtful stare at the rounded object in her hand, causing her to drop and fumble after it before answering the door with a mild dew of sweat on her brow. The bard's smile unfolded like an eager piece of parchment when she saw him, "Master Alchemist!" she cheered, reaching out to guide the male inside by his wrist, holding the rounded container in her metallic hand. "I wasn't expecting you," True enough, she hadn't thought she would see him for several more days but the timing couldn't have been more perfect. As he entered the lab, he would notice the pacing path Alvina had carved through the dust on the wooden floor ranging from small circles in the open space towards the entrance, to one large loop around the entire room space. Other counters held test tubes or glassware displayed beneath a steady coating of aged dust. The bard had not stirred the instruments she had no use for. On the table center to the room was a variety of metal working tools, and pieces of roughly shaped metal bits topped off with fine shrapnel like metallic powder beneath them; clear evidence that she had been hard at work. "How are you!?" She chirped, releasing his arm once they were inside. "I'm so thrilled you found the place." Alvina did not seem to notice that anything was out of the ordinary with Hudson. He seemed lucid and fully sober in those moments of greeting.

Hudson's mouth opens, the alchemist somewhat starved of words as Alvina greets him by a moniker a little too elevated for his skill level - master? more like novice! - and proceeds to just haul him inside. "Hello to you too!" he declares boldly, having recovered and feeling playful given the amount of alcohol he's consumed in advance of this meeting. With a lift of his eyebrows and a masculine look of appraisal at the touchy-feely Alvina, Huds tucks his hand into his pocket. Here for work. His gaze fans out over the room to take in the scene. The alchemist's attention passes over the glassware and lingers to note the relative disuse; maybe it was his lucky day. In any event, it doesn't take too long to appraise her lab as an environment that pleases him, and he turns to tell her such. "Cool," he says the word with a slow smile, one hand unslinging a pack from over his shoulder to dangle it about his knees. "I wasn't sure if you'd be here," he tells her as he approaches the center table, eying its contents with some interest. "I may have pregamed this work session somewhat, if I'm being honest. Which I am. Uh, so, right, how's progress?"

Alvina took careful notice of Hudson’s attention as he examined the room with a thoughtful, and this wistful, and then perhaps distracted facial expressions. His arched eye brows and masculine smirk as he caught the bard in his stare made her grin. The bard kept her silence until he’d finished his investigation, at which point she moved to the table he was standing next to. Pressing her chin lightly into her palms, the bard leaned against the table top with sturdy elbows and a curious grin. “Pre-gaming is it?” Smoke and the linger scent of a crowded place clung to him, laced with the occasional small whiff of alcohol. Creative minds never failed to amaze her. Emerald optics remained fixed on the alchemist until she smiles lightly, springing back onto her heels and into action at his question of progress. “So far, this is my most successful and aesthetically pleasing design.” Carefully, she holds out the small golden orb for him to take. It’s roughly cut but smooth enough to touch. A rough draft of their combined efforts in dull, reflective glory. “I wasn’t sure what chemicals you would be using, I fear I won’t have a single metal that can survive if you intent to use any kind of alkahest.” The bard smiled, nervous but eager to hear his thoughts on what she’d done so far. Taking a step forward, Alvina points the orb’s surface as her shoulder moves to touch Hudson’s due to her close proximity. “I was going to inscribe something important to the guild or some kind of recruiting message on them, in case someone should find the empty containers after the demonstration.” Her fragile frame whirls around on her heels, placing her nose just a breath away from Huds’. “Do you think that would be too much?” Blinking, the bard rocked back and forth in thought, pacing away towards the door and then back to the table side (though at not so close a distance).

Hudson's shoulder pulls up in a quick shrug in response to her teasing. "Gets the creative juices flowing..." he explains with a smirk that's shameless as it is fast. The alchemist is all focus a beat later, as he extends an arm to take the orb from her. Huds turns it over in his hand, feeling the smoothness of it. His attention briefly pivots to her shoulder as it brushes against his, though rather than comment or recoil he re-focuses himself on the orb, his gaze appraising it with a quiet warmth. "Much prettier than anything I would have come up with," he pronounces as he passes the orb back to Alvina, careful to secure it in her hands before releasing his hold and stepping back. "I like the idea of an inscription." His eyes briefly meet hers in quiet encouragement before shifting back to the orb. Huds scratches at the growth on his chin as he thinks and talks at once. "So, I won't be trying to dissolve anything. I was wondering if we could fit a small fire or heat source in there, though, because I want to pack the orb with uh... really really cold stuff. I'm not sure how to explain it, besides, I say the name of air and yeah. Do you ah... want me to show you?" He begins to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves, rolling them up to the elbow joint. "That might be easiest. Show me where I can make a mess first?"

Alvina takes the orb with an almost maternal affection, beaming as he compliments her efforts thus far. It was rewarding to have a working partner. The bard was glad Hildegarde hadn’t asked her to do this task alone. It was the first full project she had taken since her teacher’s passing, and it was not the style of the bard to accomplish anything wholeheartedly AND by her lonesome. Feedback was important to her creative process, much as it seems that a pint or two helped Hudson ease into his own wondrous art. Tilting her head, the bard nods in excitement as he rolls up his sleeves. Cautiously, she takes a small step back, still cradling the orb in her palms, wide –eyed and eager for the demonstration he promised. “I’m sure I could do that…though I won’t know how to apply the practice until I see what needs to happen.” When queried about the best place to start, she points a metallic digit at the table just behind hers; mostly filled with the glassware she never touched. Nostalgia tugged at her heart strings as she added, “Though do be careful…I know it’s the nature of experiments for things to falter and perhaps explode but I would like to keep most of this intact if possible.” With that, she gives him an encouraging smile and gestures as if to shoo him away with her hands, prompting him forward in his demonstration and down his trail of thought.

Hudson does both sleeves, the action quite mechanical, and his gaze on Alvina as he does so. The silver gleam of her arm of course is an omnipresent third party between them, but he isn't revolted by it, merely curious. All the same, they don't know one another that well just yet. He looks beyond the metal hand to the untouched table, and his steps carry him there. With a rustle of his hair out of his eyes, Huds eyes the dusty glasswear and begins to touch the various pieces tentatively. He doesn't see the emotion lurking beneath the veneer of Alvina's words, but he can hear them, and he wonders just who this part of this job belonged to, if not her. It's not been in use. "I'll be careful," he tells her, chancing a glance back in her direction and taking note of how quickly her encouraging smile seemed to spring into place. He jerks his head toward the table, inviting her to join him as he takes up one of the most insulated containers he can find. He concentrates on it - although it's empty - and his mouth opens to form a word, which he sings in a low voice. It's got the clarity of something primordial, and while there is no known substance to the world - it's not in common - it unequivocally means 'air.' And, in the bottom of the container, an opaque white brick forms, as if out of nothing. It's dry ice - and a dense fog lifts off of it, and into Huds' smile as he turns to show Alvina.

Alvina takes a few steps closer, her hand resting for a moment on her chest with relief as Hudson promises to do his best to keep things intact. Curiously, the bard seems to wrap around the table to lean across in good view of the container her coworker is singing into? She blinks, watching him with the eyes of a child and intellectual both. Hudson’s audible calling resonates within the bardic nature the two share, and Alvina feels a strange jolt of energy go through her, as if the two were somehow a thread closer for her being there to hear him. Mildly embarrassed but more fascinated, the woman leans closer to watch the fog foam from the glassware, ignoring the blush that rises to her cheeks. “Gods!” She exclaims, in child-like wonder, “That’s amazing!” Clasping both of her hands against her clavicle, Alvina stares hard at the container and its newly transformed component. In a moment of thoughtless excitability and wonder, the bard reaches out with intent to press her metallic digits into the container and against the dry ice block, her face painted with that oh so familiar expression of a scientist performing an experiment for the first time.

Hudson likewise feels his face heat at Alvina's excitement, as his chest fills with pride. If only dry ice were the way to riches and not just... smoke machines. This is a pretty basic and nearly as far as his skill level goes, but nonetheless, Alvina's amazement makes him feel like maybe he's just not that incompetent. But then her metal hand begins to descend into the container. "Don't touch it!" he exclaims, a little too late, for the contact of the metal against the dry ice causes a rather noisy screeching sound. He nearly drops the container but carefully moves it away from her touch, depositing it back on the table, where it emanates a rather slow fog. No doubt she could see how fire might help make the effect more exaggerated. "The ah, condensed air makes a sound if touched by metal," he explains sheepishly. "I hope you aren't too startled. I should have warned you."

Alvina jumps back with a look on her face that can only be described as awe. Instead of worrying about her arm or the dry ice, or even Hudson for a brief second, she just glowed, a radiant smile, as if she’d been struck with a bolt of lightning in a rainstorm. The moment passes and the bard collects herself enough to examine her metallic digits to find no damages. In fact… “One of the dents in my fingers has been removed.” She notes, holding the digit up for Hudson to examine. “They should call you a magician instead of an alchemist. That was basically a miracle of science and skill.” Nodding, she grinned too widely for words as she moved a small distance away. “I hope I didn’t ruin it…I just…this feeling came over me and I just couldn’t stop myself.” A short burst of laughter spills from her lips, so heavily in that time span that tears formed in the corners of her emerald optics. “I can remake the orb to include a heat source. We might be able to fashion some flint triggered by a button press to strike and cause a small internal flame without having to open the orb….” It was clear she was still a little flabbergasted. ” I’ve never seen anything like that!”

Hudson 's eyes are sweeping the length of Alvina's metal arm, in fact in search of damage, and what a relief it is to hear that there is none - that somehow a minor defect had been resolved, even. He exhales the breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding, and his face heats further as he tries to grapple with the praise he's getting. Best to not get into how the whole point of alchemy is to be able to transmute lead into gold, and, really, he couldn't be farther from that. Getting small amounts of air and water to listen to him long enough to turn into dry ice and wine, respectively, had taken him long enough. He sheepishly rubs at his stubble, canting his head in abashed pride. "You didn't ruin it, I can create more anytime. It's made out of air, so yeah..." he tells her, allowing himself an awkward chuckle of sorts as his attention swivels back to the container and the slight puff of fog it emanates. "I think that would be a really good idea, Alvina. The only thing I'm just not sure on is how we get the smoke colored? I guess uh, we could try food coloring dye." He flashes her a sheepish grin. "Actually, that's probably the simplest part, but we're so focused on the hard stuff."

Alvina frowns suddenly, deep in thought about the project. “I’m not sure that food coloring will change the color of the fog since it’s a reaction of the ice heating, right? If it works the same way as water, it will just billow up in the same, colorless cloud we are used to seeing. Hmmm…” Thoughtfully, the bard tugs at a loose crimson curl brushing the side of her face and spins it around her finger. “We can still use a fire of course…maybe extend the life of the burning material on the inside somehow…some bits of cotton perhaps…and various powders…to create different colors? Like….” Reaching through Cerinii’s draws, Alvina finds a small box with a powdered substance within. Smiling, she tips the powder into another dusty bit of glassware and adds a few strands of cotton from her medical kit and finally, a flame to catch it. The heat takes the cotton right away, the flames licking at the sides of its durable prison. Small billows of blue smoke form from the base of the glass. “It’s cooper.” She finally says, holding out the vial to him with an excited but also slightly embarrassed look on her face. “I…don’t know how to go about doing the rest but….what do you think?” Nervously, she tucks her hair away from her face, afraid that Hudson might take offense to her suggestion when it did not include his dry ice theory. “Or maybe there is a way we can get the smoke from the dry ice to color. We could use some magical lights to flare against them! Or craft small torches inside with colored glass to reflect their light on certain points to color the smoke?”

Hudson cants his head and scratches at his chin as Alvina points out the ineffectiveness of what he's just suggested. "Various powders," are the words he latches on to, although he's not quite sure what 'various powders' might mean. Various powders indeed. His gaze meanders over to what Alvina's on about - hopefully nothing's about to explode - and he watches in silence as she conducts a small experiment in front of him. He wishes he could sit down. The alcohol is weighing on him like a sack of bricks. Alvina's quite pretty, though, even with the metal arm, he concludes, sneezing as a result of the blue smoke that's suddenly - he feels without warning - thrust into his face. A gigantic line of phlegm catches on the sleeve rolled up at his elbow, which he thrusts out to contain things. Artful. He sniffs and holds his arms behind his back, the other hand tugging down the sleeve somewhat as he rocks on his heels and recovers. "Looks amazing," he declares, "I'm uh, down with either of those suggestions. Any of them. Um. Can we get other colors besides blue?"

Alvina contritely moves the tiny demonstration field away while trying to keep her features uplifting. “I can’t say. It’s only something I’ve seen my teacher do…it’s nothing I know much about…” Her eyes flashed away the moment he sneezed, ashamed to have caused that reaction by messing with things she did not all together understand. The gravity around Hudson seemed to intensify the longer they stood and talked. Without a word, Alvina tugged a small stool from beneath the bench they were working from and sat it beside him. “Let me clean this up…” she said, softly, moving the contains over to a slick counter top beside a deep wash basin, never letting the smile fall too far from her face. “There are some clean rags below in the side cabinet….” Her back was towards him as she moved away, “ if the soot bothers you.” It wasn’t clear if she was telling him so he could clean it off the table or so he could tend to the rampaging destruction of his nasal reaction but she was polite about it however it was intended. “You know, we could use the coloring idea if you can find a way to fuse the dry ice and color together I think…” She says, off handedly as she rinses the glassware clean in the basin. “It’s the separation of the two that keeps it from working by just adding it…Maybe that would be enough?” Sorrow clung to her shoulders, but she finished within a reasonable time frame. Once she was sure Hudson had completed whatever he needed to with the clothes, she would turn back to him, with a heavy apologetic air. “I’m sorry….” Although it was unclear just what the normally upbeat bard was apologizing for.

Hudson wishes he had sneezed a little more furtively. Now the sneeze has become an Event capital E, and Alvina - as made plain by her bustling and heartfelt reaction - has totally noticed. He feels his face heat as he reaches for the side cabinet and takes out a rag. He takes two. One he uses to properly blow his nose and secretly wipe his arm; this one he tucks in his pocket, for proper conversion to handkerchief. The other he uses to mop up the table somewhat. He's grateful that Alvina seems to be moving the thread of conversation along - it does somewhat to reduce his embarrassment. "I suppose so, I mean the dry ice is made from particles of air." He scratches his cheek idly as he ponders the issue. "I suppose if I... drew from the air to make the ice just as we'd thrown the powder into it... that might work..." A beat, as he processes her apology, and the downcast air to her expression. His eyebrows lift with sudden onset of confusion, the incident with the sneeze already forgotten - he's a few beers deep after all. He looks behind him, as if expecting to see something, before returning his gaze to focus on the contrite expression in front of him. "Wait, why are you apologizing? What's going on?"

Alvina forced a smile and clutched one of the rags she’d been using to clean the containers to her chest. “For the powder, in your face. I…should know better than to handle things I’m less familiar with.” Promptly, she offers him a deep but quickly executed bow before righting herself. “The food coloring and the dry ice should work then, I think. That way we will have more colors than just blue. The blue is the only powder I know of.” The bard is quick to change the subject to prevent herself more embarrassment. “Are you all right?” She probes with a quiet concern, “You look rather tired dear Master Alchemist.” A genuine smile takes the place of her previously feigned expression; soft, warm, and alit with all the concern of a bleeding heart. Without real clearance or question, Alvina steps across the distance between them and places the back of her hand against his forehead, brushing away the stray auburn locks that normally reside there. “You’ve no temperature…” she says, to herself more than Huds before drawing a safe distance once more. “Would you like something to drink…water, perhaps?” Without waiting for a proper reply, she moves back to the basin and opens the overhead cabinets to reveal a small tin cup. Once it’s brimming with water, the bard sets it in front of the alchemist without expectation. “I’m really glad you took the time to come by….” Her emerald eyes close as a full smile takes her lips. “Truly, it’s a pleasure to have your company.” There is no doubt that she is whole –heartedly true in the sentiment.

Hudson blinks, almost owl-like in his incredulity, at Alvina. His goggles, perched above the forelock of his hair, choose this moment to pull back slightly into the crown of his head, collapsing into themselves. He pulls them back down as he struggles to assure her that all's well, "Really, I'm alright, no worries at all...?" He wonders if something is in that blue smoke that he just hasn't quite sorted out yet. In any event, Huds offers Alvina a lopsided grin, in the hopes of reassuring her. "The food coloring will do just fine I expect. I'll test it out at home. Erm." Pause here as she reaches to take his temperature. "Just a little tipsy and sloppy probably," he concedes with a boyish lift of an eyebrow, his gaze lifting to connect to her hand on his forehead. He opens his mouth to reassure her again, but thinks better of it as she goes about getting him some water. He supposes that couldn't hurt. It won't do to have a midday hangover after all, he thinks, watching her fill the cup, the water making a rattle against the metal. He graciously accepts it with an obliged tilt of his head. "I expect we've got on rather well for Hildegarde's project, no?" he asks, having a sip as his eyes meet hers. "Assuming I can get the food coloring to work out, shall we have a little celebration and send word?"

Alvina’s humor seems to rekindle itself at Hudson’s boyish charm; His goggles collapsing, his lopsided smile, the crook of his eyebrow as he looks at her. “I just didn’t expect it to make you sneeze so violently.” The sound of the bard’s laughter fills the space around them with warmth and familiar comfort again. “I’m only teasing, but I’m glad you’re all right.” Her fleshed hand still warm slightly warmer from touching his forehead, she pressed her palm to her own cheek in thought, eyes tilted upward as if replaying their experiments and encounters. “Well, yes, I suppose we tolerated each other fairly well, all things considered.” The bard’s tongue protrudes for just a moment from her lips; an exclamation point to her sarcastic response. Blush paints the self-conscious woman’s cheeks as she coughs lightly into her hand to hide her rapid heartbeat. Surely, he couldn’t hear it, right? “ We deserve a celebration! What would you like to do? We put a lot of hard work in this device!” Her voice is boisterous and laced with laughter even though their partnership had made the job seem almost effortless. “We should send word to Hilde, but it might be more fun to surprise her with it and a visit. Do you know how to get to the Eryie? I haven’t a mount yet but I’m part of their fold so I would be happy to bring you along.” The pink hue on her cheeks renewed at the thought of travelling together. “You know,” her white boots scuffed against the rough wooden floor boards, “If you wanted to, that is.”

Hudson didn't expect himself to have sneezed so violently either. "Such is the essence of violent sneezes," he comments dryly as her laughter spills out around them. He's grateful that Alvina's concern seems to be settling down. Had she kept inquiring about his health, he might have grown paranoid that she knew something about the blue powder that he didn't. Huds does not have extraordinary hearing abilities, and so he can't hear her heartbeat, but he does have a fairly decently functioning set of eyes - well, today at least, bless wizard enchantments - and can see the blush heating her face. He grins anew at her, somewhat mirroring her awkwardness in the way he hesitates before answering, "Oh we should go! Definitely. Definitely should go. I haven't been, but I'm hopeless with directions, so, if you don't mind. Er, we can't go today, though?" As if that were likely to happen. "I have dinner with my mum tonight," he reveals, lamely, as if this weren't a routine occurrence at all. "Plus I do have to check the food coloring I suppose. But I really do want to go, I've never been."

Alvina nods, rocking back and forth on her heels, excited. “Of course we can go. Not a problem in the least. You just let me know when you are available, and perhaps we can bring a working prototype along for her approval. I would hate to show up empty handed anyway.” Smiling, the bard tucks away a wild thread of her Autumn hued locks. “You’re lucky, to still have your mum and she’s lucky to have you.” It would be complicated to explain why she felt that way. Needless to say, the woman no longer had such family obligations. “ We can meet here whenever you are ready! Test the new dry ice combination in the new construct and set out. Depending on when we leave, though, we might have to spend the night at the hold. Is that all right? They have dorms and the like…I think…” The bard paused. The Fold once had dorm rooms for recruits to occupy but she hadn’t been back to the Eryie in a while…maybe things had changed… “I will see about recruiting a temporary mount for us as well. Much easier to fly than walk. Oh!” Alvina spun around on her heels and dug through the drawers of her work station. “I almost forgot….” And with that, her speech ceases until she pulls a small box from the cluttered drawers. “I hope you don’t mind but I thought perhaps, that, well…” Pausing, Alvina clears her throat. “It’s a bit of a habit of mine to give my friends and acquaintances something of silver to bind our memories to. A physical representation of an intangible thing like time, or emotion. Normally, it is just a silver bracelet but since we are bound by a bit more than random happenstance and have been partners on this project I thought you might require something a little more personalized. It was meant to be congratulation present when the work was all done but I finished it a lot earlier than I intended…” With that, she hands him the box. Inside, he will discover a silver wrist band with an artfully crafted etching of the clearing where they had first met in the woods. Entangled in the branches, were various music notes. The sun was breaking through the canopy even in the monotone setting. On the inside, the bard has simply inscribed ‘Master Alchemist.’ The silver was worked almost liquid-smooth and held a very sturdy shape.

Hudson nods along to the plan as proposed by Alvina. "Sure we can have something ready by then," he says, dipping his head and casting his gaze downward at the mention of his mum. "She's great, really, I'm very lucky," he agrees, his tone grateful. In part his gratefulness is due to his mum, who really is a lovely human being, and in part due to the general ignorance on Alvina's part of his mum's notoriety in certain circles. It IS awfully nice to not have to converse about what it's like growing up the son of the author of Fifty Shades of Neigh. Seriously. Huds is about ready to express his condolences - it seems like Alvina's not been so fortunate - but she has moved on and is discussing the travel arrangements. Huds rolls his shoulder in a shrug at the finer points of all this, his mouth pursed in the ghost of a smile. "Flying mount, eh? Sounds fun," he comments, falling silent as Alvina begins to rummage about in the drawer. He doesn't know what to say, and the silence further unspools as Alvina lifts out the box, handing it to him. "You didn't have to, whatever this is," he says, gently prying the box open. He lifts the wrist band out of the box, allowing the light to catch the etching, his expression softening into quiet appreciation. "This is great workmanship," he says, his gaze darting to catch Alvina's briefly before moving back to the silver. "You really didn't have to. Really. But. Thank you. It's very kind of you." He looks up at Alvina again and, with a wry grin, holds his left arm out, laying the wrist band flat over it. "An assist, if you don't mind?"

Alvina grins. “You are very fortunate. Can I meet her sometime?” In truth, it was mostly curiosity about mothers that made the bard so forward as to ask. She always imagined them soft spoken but terribly tough. “I am in a bit of a bind with my own mother, memory wise…and my father tells me she died a while ago.” If she could remember anything about her mother, it would have been worth a thousand silver bracelets, even though she knew meeting Huds mother would not make her remember anything about her own. The memories were under curse and key. The woman gives Hudson a mischievous smile in response to his own grin and reaches forward to do the latch. The cool metal has been warmed by their handling of it, and something about that makes her smile. This once chilled bit of unimpressive metal will be given a new life with its new owner. Once the bracelet is securely in place, the bard backs away to admire it with a nod of satisfaction. Time well spent. A serious but soft expression takes her features as she looks at Hudson earnestly. “Memories are very important,” she discloses as if it was some secret that no one else knew, “Without memories we are not bound to anything. We float aimless. Memories tether our hearts…and our minds. Selfishly, this bracelet does something for me too.” She admits, her eyes downcast in mild shame. “It reinforces my existence if you have something to prove we met. A solid object to prove that this happened. That we know one another. That we are friends.”

Hudson has a tiny panic about Alvina asking to meet his mum, but he manages to wear it reasonably well: his expression twists in something between a wince and a grin. "If I can make her promise not to embarrass me in front my friends, maybe," he replies, wondering privately just what mum E.L. Landon would make of Alvina anyway. No doubt she'd be delighted. Surely it would not be as bad as that time with the kickball game where she'd - without permission - showed up in a sundress bearing sliced orange slices, and his teammates had made comments afterwards, and he'd come home with a mysterious black eye... No, he thinks with an internal sigh, this could be challenging in a different sense. "I'm sorry to hear that," he says to Alvina, snapping out of his internal pitying monologue in time to watch her do the latch of the wrist band. He likewise admires it once she's secured it, twisting his wrist to catch the light, a grin catching in his expression. He looks to Alvina as she speaks, wanting to thank her. Her words have a bit of a thread of truth to them, though, and Huds finds himself at a loss for words, studying the way she's grown so serious all of a sudden. This is some tip of the iceberg, he reflects, congratulating himself on not asking a nosy question while under the influence. He settles for offering her a tentative smile. "It's a nice gift," he tells her. "Seriously, thank you. I should... well like to give you a hug, Alvina. Then I guess I'll be on my way, eh?"

Alvina waves her hand in front of her, smiling, to dismiss his apology. “No apologies or awkward silences are necessary. It’s just a fact, that’s all.” The small kitten, who had until then been sleeping in the window sill, stretched its dusty paws against her dark blue stockings, leaving small pad prints. “Embarrassing someone is half the fun of knowing them so well. But I will do my best to remember myself if we should ever meet.” The bard practically radiated sunbeams at his suggestion and does not wait an instant to fulfill the request. As if the bard had the patience to answer before moving into a slow, uninspired hug. Let it be said that Alvina did nothing half way. In a blink, she thrusts her arms around the alchemist with renewed vigor, holding him close against her in the warmest of embraces. He still smelled of smoke and liquor. A bit like saliva, she’d note silently to herself, but all together lovely. In a manly, fashionable way, to be sure. When the hug breaks, her joy is palpable, flooding the air around them with an almost intoxicating energy. “Thank you,” she adds, “It means a lot to have a partner in crime! Truly.” After scuffing the toes of her boots on the floor once more for a few moments, she leans forward to give Huds another light, friendly (and much quicker) hug before he departs. “Promise to come back when you’re ready? And travel safely until then?”

Hudson nearly has the wind knocked out of him as Alvina crushes him against her in a hug for which the suddenness of onset has a bit in common with a passing tornado. Still, it's not as if he is rigid as a board; he does follow through and return the hug with predictable warmth, one hand curling against her back to hold her close in a familiar but not unawkward way before releasing her. To Hudson, whose face comes right against the halo of her hair, she seems soft, feminine, and smells like whatever soap she uses, no doubt. He forgets that she has a metal arm, but wonders at it as he straightens opposite her. He grins a little sheepishly. "Definitely," he agrees, finding himself the surprise recipient of a second hug, that ends just as quickly as it had started. (In this one, given the sneak attack element employed, he is more like a rigid board, though.) "Woah," he says, flushing but laughing it off. "Yeah, definitely. Shouldn't be too long. Fingers crossed. Anyway, you take care too, Alvina." He extends one arm, splaying the fingers, in a casual wave as he begins to move toward the door.