RP:Don't Help Make The Train

From HollowWiki

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc


Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc


Summary: Hudson and Alvina go to the Cenril Clinic to determine the gender of their next child. While in the waiting room, Huds sees an old copy of the Larketian Herald discussing Alvina's involvement in the building of the witch detection device. He accuses Alvina of being thoughtless and contributing to the Larketian Crown's witch persecution.


The Landon Household

Morning finds them in an unfit state to greet the company of Marge, who is already in the house and dealing with the girls and breakfast before they can gather themselves into proper clothing and take rushed turns in the shower. She gives them both a knowing smile that implies she knows a thing or two about honeymooning and post marital bliss when they present shortly after. She offers them breakfast and an appointment confirmation from the courier for a clinic appointment Yeah this morning. They kiss their daughters good morning and goodbye before snagging a carriage and trying to catch their breath. "I blame you, you are a bad influence." Alvina says, by way of flirty appreciation for their impromptu exchange the night before. She's wearing a flowy maroon skirt and a smart little black button down, to make the process of dressing / hopefully not entirely undressing easier. #experienced. It'll be the second time they've done this and while it's less nerve-wracking in terms of what to expect, it's still tense. Alvina's always overly sensitive about these matters and squeezes Hudson's hand repeatedly, making a mock drum beat to calm her nerves.


Hudson wakes up to find that Alvina's in the shower and the bedroom's a mess. He attempts to clean up, which mostly entails picking things off of the floor and leaving them in a pile on Alvina's dresser for the cleaning lady to sort out later. "Well hey," he says to Alvina, as she and he cross paths on his way into the shower. He tries to grab her but is swatted by a towel, which he takes for a reminder that they're running behind schedule. "You're an angel from heaven," he informs Marge, by the time he joins her, their daughters, and Alvina, in the kitchen for a quick bite on the way out. He's still hungry by the time they're on the way to the appointment in the carriage. He grunts thoughtfully at the accusation Alvina's leveled at him. "Uh-huh, you were into it," he says, in his defense, putting an arm around her. She's nervous, he can tell. He is the opposite of nervous, mostly excited for the results, like this is a big game that they're anticipating. "Love you, secret minx." He plants a kiss on her cheek, belatedly, like he'd meant to do that first thing but they'd been trying to catch up all morning. "I can't wait to find out what we're having, baby," he adds, wondering if maybe she's having a panic over the gender thing because she fears disappointing him over it. "You OK?"


Carriage To The Clinic

Alvina grins when he calls her a secret minx. "I don't think it's a secret for you anymore." She laughs, it’s short lived. Then as an afterthought, "I love you too." He offers this question about what they are having and she grins again. "I think we're having a baby, if I remember correctly. I guess it's also possible I just need to go on a diet?" It's not funny but she tried it anyway, her head isn't screwed on straight yet. "Yeah, yeah just excited to see who wins the bet. Are you okay with finding out you're wrong? How well do you handle defeat Huds?" She sticks her tongue out at him, because she's trying to keep the levity alive until they reach the clinic and he helps her out. "I guess I'm just worried about the werewolf thing again..." Unclear if it's that she's worrying about werewolf features or becoming a werewolf herself in the distant future. "Do you think I'd have better luck having kids if it was a werewolf to werewolf ratio of genes?" She makes gestures like she's pushing two imaginary objects together and looks at him with concern just as the carriage rounds the bend, the clinic is only a few more minutes away so they don't have long to worry.


Maybe his asking helped, a little, because Alvina's making jokes now. Hudson slow winks at her. "I'm good with finding out I'm wrong, also good with finding out I'm right," he says, giving her hand a squeeze. He glances at her as she mentions her concerns, realizing then that he'd been off the mark. "What do you mean better luck?" he wants to know. He releases her hand to put his palm over her stomach. "You didn't just eat like, three burritos - this is a baby, and so far everything's been good." The abrupt sensitivity of his wife! It's invisible to him, and then it's as if she wipes away a fogged glass and he sees her quite clearly on the other side, her and her fragility that she bears by herself. He wraps his arms around her, holds his lips to her temple. "Everything's going to be fine," he tells her, looking at the approaching building facades, one of which is the clinic's. The carriage slows before coming to a halt. "C'mon," Hudson runs a hand along Alvina's back before releasing her so that she can climb out.


The Clinic In Cenril

Alvina isn’t sure what she means by ‘better luck’ like would they be able to still have kids if she took a walk in the woods kind of thing? They don’t need more kids but…now it feels like a thing they can do together. An experience! Hudson’s reassurance that ‘everything’s going to be fine’ is met with a weak smile. Of course it will. What could possibly go wrong with them at this point in their life? They were newlyweds with another member of their family in the works. Hudson was gravitating towards a better position in his organization and Alvina was home when she wasn’t working. Ah work had even slowed down since she’d helped Macon and Josleen (and the academy) build their fancy witch detecting machine. This was supposed to be the reward. The light at the end of the tunnel for them. Hudson lets Alvina go first, and they find the cobblestone beneath without incident. Hudson holds the clinic door and Alvina signs them in under Landon, for the first time sharing that last night with the rest of their brood. “Good morning, Mrs. Landon.” The nurse behind the counter greets her. “Could we get you back and prepped? Will your husband mind to wait a little while before going back?” Alvina looks over her shoulder to Hudson, who appears to be leafing through an old sports magazine she recognized from their coffee table. “Is everything okay?” She asked, in a mild panic. “Oh, of course. We just have a new procedure and it’s less than flattering to get set up.” The nurse reassures her, moving behind the glass to open the door to let her back. She walks away from the window to Hudson, to fill him in before heading back for the prep portion of the visit. “It’s some new thing?” She offers, unconvinced that the world isn’t ending. “They said they’ll call you back as soon as it’s set up. I’ll throw a fit if anything else happens.” She gives him another smile and kisses his cheek. “See you soon?”


Hudson isn't thinking about Alvina's anxiety on as deep a level as she is. His mind is like a very simplistic algorithm with respect to a lot of things, but definitely this. Wife is distressed, soothe wife, loop until distress ceases. She seems to rally as they come into the doctor's office, though. At the request that he loiter here, he frowns at first - he's a bit confused - and is about to ask if the nurse is sure, because usually he gets to head back with Alvina. Alvina beats him to the punch, though. Less than flattering. He cocks an eyebrow at his wife. He's watched her bleed everywhere and then get a c-section, he can deal with less than flattering, but OK. She falls back to nervously explain further, and he reaches for her hand, squeezing it briefly before releasing. "Yep, it's fine, babe," he tells her, and then seats himself on the couch that appears to primarily serve as a home base for bored husbands. She vanishes. He wades through the reading materials available on the nearby coffee table, there's a selection of magazines and local papers. He'd been rooting around for the Cenril sports section but there's Alvina's name, above the fold, in the Larket Herald. Assisted in engineering a witch detection device? For the monarchy? Is this a joke? He reads the article twice, his eyes skittering over the words as if each had the capacity to burn him if lingered over. He checks the date of the paper - it's... kind of stale! - and then realizes that the skin on his limbs, his forearms, is hissing with the telltale itch of the Wolf. His face is blanched with rage. How can she never have mentioned to him that she was building this? How can she have done this, knowing what she knows, and then let him find out like this, from a paper? Weeks. WEEKS. After the project had been completed. His mind immediately goes to Valrae, when it hadn't in some time. Of course, Valrae. The stain that can never quite get out of their relationship, even if he thinks she's out, here she is, her very existence motivating his wife to do ugly things behind his back. His wife! Whom he apparently doesn't know that well at all, because what in the actual hell is this? He'd thought they were on the same page. He tosses the paper on the coffee table, with the others, and bites into his fist. He'd really like a smoke right now but he can't go into Alvina's exam room smelling like it. He tries to calm himself down, mines everything he's ever learned at werewolf group therapy, but there's no quick fix. He's suspiciously blank-faced by the time he's escorted to go join her.


Alvina, in her ignorance had not read the Larketian Herald or she’d have warned Hudson well ahead of time. She’d been under the impression the project was still in testing / not yet in use completely and a mild thing even at that. The doctor and nurses go about hooking her odds and ends up to this machine, which requires a suspicious lack of blue goo and makes her wonder if there is something secretly wrong that no one is telling her. They throw rough tissue like bits of semi-transparent (more like thin, the aim isn’t for them to be see through) sheets over her. She’s still wearing her clothes but they are hiked up at odd angles and it’s best to be modest in front of strangers. Who knows how long it’ll take for Hudson to forget this image. When he enters the room, she can read something strange in his face. Maybe it’s just nerves? She tries to reach out to him with a comforting smile but the doctor is directing him towards a seat on the wall and explaining the routine set of ground rules, all of which she’s tuning out anxiously. The doctor goes on to start pressing dials, runes light up on panels and a low pitched whirling fills the room. It’s surreal and Alvina tenses at the slightest breeze of motion. The only familiar portion of this is the screen bit that shows alien bits and bobs. This is turned towards Hudson and Alvina, but Alvina can’t force herself to focus on it. Hudson hadn’t taken her hand, hadn’t even looked at it to take it. Was she being paranoid? The doctor presses a few more dials and grins widely at the tense parents, asking if they are ready to meet their newest addition. Alvina nods, hesitant and chilled, before looking at Hudson for his reply.


Hudson is trying to fix his face. Holy smokes he is trying to fix his face. He is boiling with anger, but it's just Not The Time. He nods politely and smiles a tight smile to the doctor, a smile that he hopes doesn't make him look at a maniac or otherwise mysterious furious husband who's trying very hard to play it cool. (Er...) He sits. He gazes at Alvina with a very carefully controlled detachment. He is hardly paying attention to what's happening, it's hard to be present when all he can think is when can they be free of third parties so he can confront her about this knowledge he's become pregnant with. He knows that right now is a critical moment to him and Alvina as parents, but this rage he has, it's like the feeling that you need to vomit, he won't feel good again until it's happened. At some point he looks at the doctor, again making great efforts to keep his face neutral. It's possible the doctor has no idea he's silently raging, but Alvina can read something's off about him. He can feel a neediness bloom in her face when she deferentially looks at him to speak. "Please, yeah, tell us the good news," he says to the doctor, his voice carrying that false note of good cheer that couples use when they're white knuckling it through an argument in front of other people. "Well, you're having a boy," she informs them, beaming, and shows them something that's appeared on the magical surface. A boy! Hudson feels a joy stir inside of him but it can't quite come to the surface, he won't let it, to spite himself, because of his present frame of mind. He feels like a puppet master carefully pulling each individual string to make his face muscles move into a smile. He exhales, tries, for everyone's sake. "A boy... That's amazing. Baby look," he points at the image on the screen. "It looks like a blob. A masculine blob," he observes, feeling himself break out into a sweat. He's going to be sick. When would she have told him? Would she have told him, ever?


Alvina feels herself standing on the edge of some anxious feeling she can’t pin down. She can’t read Hudson’s face. She’d only been gone a few minutes, what happened? Did he not want to have another child together? The doctor is telling them they are having a son and her face spins to Hudson, trying to create a scenario with the hieroglyphics on his face. He should be thrilled! A break in the chain, something different than what he’d expected. A son! An heir! A teammate in the fight against all woman kind! He still looks like he can’t be arsed to react to this news. Alvina frowns, visibly, not quite as well versed in pushing the pieces of her face in place for third parties. Hudson’s trying still, so Alvina makes a fragile effort and the doctor, who is oblivious of their internal conflict, leaves the machine running so they can watch the ‘masculine’ blob start his life in the middle of an unspoken discomfort. The doctor stands, still beaming, and tells them to schedule the next appointment and the nurses will be in soon to unhook Alvina. Hudson is welcome to stay with her until the nurses return and then, in a split second the doctor is gone and Alvina is staring a desperate hole into Hudson’s mind to find out what happened. Did he see someone in the waiting room? Was it Valrae?! Pregnant again maybe?? Did it break his heart to see her here with someone else? Alvina’s ego inflates, her own brand of bitterness surging through her veins as she waits in blistering silence for him to speak. Could Valrae even take anymore from her? Even now that they were married? How could she…How could he be thinking about her now….Alvina exhales, closing her eyes and shifting uncomfortably on the table. The rustle of tissue drowns out the slowing whirl of the machine as it winds down.


Hudson wills the doctor to leave them alone and she does. With their joy. Ugh, their joy turned to dust. He feels guilt for being so angry with Alvina, on this day, right now, but he also feels righteous indignation because how could she, this is the risk she ran, not telling him. He watches her shift uncomfortably. He doesn't know how to broach this topic, it feels precious, like breaking the crust on a crime brûlée. He doesn't want to, and yet he has to. "Alvina," he says carefully, watching her to gauge her reaction in real time, "While I was in the waiting room I noticed you're in the Herald, your work with the.. detector." He won't say the word 'witch' out loud, it would be too inflammatory, she should know well enough what detector he means. He waits for shame to flood her face. "We can talk about it outside," he says hurriedly, conscious of the footsteps outside the room. "I don't want to fight with you here," he tries to add, calmly. "Today's supposed to be a special day for us, I'm very happy about the baby, .. .. .. but what the hell, Alvina?" There's a pulse of anger in his face, which he wipes off immediately as the door opens a full second later, before she can reply. The nurse is here, to untangle Alvina, and Hudson is excused. He skulks through the halls to the waiting room, shakily pocketing the Larketian Herald to show her when she emerges, no doubt armed for an explosive argument.


Alvina prepares herself for what she thinks is an apology, turning to greet Hudson with wavering eyes and tight lips. His tone further proves something is wrong, she isn’t paranoid. All she can do now is brace herself for what happened. She turns over different scenarios in her mind in the silence before he speaks again, trying to dig out forgiveness for the latest transgression only to be side lined by this glaring beacon of a fault on her part. Her mouth slacks, mind blank with shock when the nurses come back in and usher Hudson out. Her expression remains unchanged even after he’s left the room; it’s locked in a mask of surprise. The nurses finish unhooking her and she fixes her clothes, eyebrows knit together in thoughtful concern as she numbly moves through the motions expected of her by the nurses. The room is empty, and Hudson is pacing in the hallway. What can she say? His anger flashes in her mind, the way his face had looked before he was moved away. She just has to explain this was for the benefit of the witches…because he’ll believe it right? He’ll listen if she explains it the same way Jos and Macon had explained it to her. Right?


Hudson is unaware of how fast he's walking. This story she's telling him is consistent with benefit of the doubt he wants to give her, but all the same Alvina's plea for him to understand why she'd waited on telling him doesn't resonate. Immediately the narrative of why he's annoyed with her recalibrates, like a GPS that's forced to adjust route. "Alvina!" he exclaims, his voice is edged in frustration, "You should have asked me BEFORE you agreed!" He glances at her, stony-eyed, to underscore this point. "I know," he continues, "that you would never help them do anything BAD, not on purpose," except for when he contemplated it briefly in a rage a moment ago, but he'd been a bit overcooked at the time. Fortunately he'd not voiced that stupid theory out loud, that would have set a bomb off in their conversation. Thank goodness for their unborn son, little guy's mitigating arguments by his existence. Hudson abruptly stops walking, finally processing her request to slow down. "Alvina," he addresses her directly. "Doing something that potentially HELPS our fascist friends be fascist, whether they say it's for that express purpose or not, is something we talk about as a couple." He widens his eyes at her. "Clearing names! Clearing names, Alvina!" he repeats, incredulously. "Listen to yourself, Alvina. How many... decades have witches lived in Larket and they didn't need any... registry or this DEVICE. People didn't need to conduct experiments on witches, either. This is new! This is ALL new! It could be me and our kids! Just... No!"


Alvina pauses in her stride at his exclamation, surprised by it. This should have been an easy decision. Why is he resisting her reasoning? “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you but I’m not a child that needs your approval before I work on something.” Was he saying they should be a team? It sounded more like he was trying to police all the dealings she had with Josleen and Macon. “Of course I wouldn’t do anything bad…” Her eyes narrow, childlike and weary of traps being laid. Then he goes on, to lay said traps and she withdraws further like an effigy aware of the oncoming flame. “I’m not the bad guy here!” She explodes back at him with the same mock incredulous tone he’s using. She feels a prick of annoyance. Obviously it’s the witches fault. The Larketian Crown is coming after witches BECAUSE of something a witch did. Josleen would never attack anyone unprovoked. “It’s the same way the -law- works. It’s not different or new. The individuals that hurt others should be punished while those who don’t are left to their devices within the constraints of the law. I’m doing this to -protect- the witches that haven’t done anything wrong. I’d do no less for us or the kids.” Her passion for the project and her good deeds were being pressed upon by Hudson’s unreasonable assumptions in a bad way. Maybe it was her moodiness about the baby that was tainted by this witch stuff. Why did he always defend the witches? Because it’s impossible to think any witch could be bad? Was it because of Valrae or the women in the nail salon? Alvina didn’t want them hurt but she also didn’t understand why Hudson’s disapproval of her heroic acts as more important than the joy of their SON for Sven’s sake, please. So she stands there, arms crossed to guard herself against him, staring at him with the fragile flightiness of a finch.


Hudson makes a disgusted noise in his throat as Alvina says she'd do the same for werewolves. "No you wouldn't, Alvina," he scoffs. "If some ruler were making a list of werewolves and the press, which by the way is in that ruler's pocket," his eyes bulge, as if to say, really Alvina, you believe that propaganda, "was constantly linking werewolves to crimes and known werewolves were being turned away from work and harassed in the street and brutally beaten at protests and then the ruler set up a glorified labor camp for them - so I guess me and our daughters just... live there, with you, and all the other newly jobless werewolves in this hypothetical scenario - and then that ruler asked you to make a device to further help them detect werewolves, I think," he pauses, "you would [expletive here, begins with an F, ends in -ing] think about it for a second." His eyes are unfriendly. "Stop looking at this request of theirs in isolation," he practically spits the words out at her. To a casual observer, it might indeed look like they're having a couple's spat in the street. "We have to smile at them and make nice because it's the right thing for us to do but that was not cool of you to do. I have people, my employees," and also Valrae, and the resistance behind her, "who are nice people, I don't know what I'd do without them, Joanie especially, and they don't deserve this garbage. And they trust me, and this... thing you did totally undermines that. What am I supposed to tell them, now they're going to be afraid of being hunted down like animals?"


Alvina hasn’t seen the camps, hasn’t been keeping up on the news (clearly she hadn’t seen the paper) and felt restless because she didn’t have a reply. She doesn’t want to be wrong, because in the scenario there was nothing sinister in the request. Just a casual clothed Macon and a sunbathing Josleen. Very low key, intimate setting with no warning. The request presented like a request for another refill of lemonade, so NONTHREATENING it hurts to remember. Had she naively missed something? Was she actually wrong? No. She wouldn’t treat anyone like garbage. “If I didn’t get involved, they would have found someone else. -I- am the qualifying factor here. I’m the barrier that should keep them safe! If the machine is being used incorrectly, I can shut it down. I can change how it works. I’m the best person for this!” She stares at Hudson, recognition flashing across her face. An idiom rockets through her mind, ‘Keep your friends close, your enemies closer.’ They weren’t enemies! Josleen was her best friend and Macon was...the guy Josleen saw fit to love. “I can’t believe Josleen would do that!” She shouts, hands pressed to the side of her head, against her temples. “I can’t.” She promptly starts to walk in the opposite direction, because the air around Hudson is too hot to breath.


Hudson now feels a little embarrassed, by Alvina's walking away. Now it's obvious - it was probably obvious before, honestly - that they're feuding. They're Those People. He of course had pivoted to walk after her. This is ridiculous. She can't just turtle away from the facts, but now it appears she's trying to. "Alvina! Oh, come on," he says, irritably, "where are you even going?" He walks beside her and says nothing because they pass through a market place and cluster of people and therefore it's time for a tense pause on their argument. He runs through everything he's just said to her and feels a little sweaty with guilt over having sold his employees as 'don't know what [he'd] do without them' status. That's not REALLY true for anyone but Joanie, and even Joanie... he could hire another assistant. He'd made that statement, unthinking, about Valrae, she's the one witch in Larket who really knows his secrets and has gone to bat for him. He hopes Alvina doesn't think too deeply about it, but it's one of those situations where he can't help but obsess a little about what he'd said after he'd said it. It doesn't help that they're unable to pivot onto another topic because they're weaving through throngs of people, for reasons unknown to him, thanks Alvina. It only looks denser ahead. He reaches to catch her wrist, and puts his hand up when she flinches away. "I just want to get in a carriage, this is obviously ridiculous," he says, in that faux voice of calm, like he's preemptively fending off any subtle accusations that he's being rough with her.

Carriage Home

Alvina doesn’t walk away to embarrass Hudson, she does it because she’s restless and needs to move. When he mutters irritably, she huffs, trying to walk faster without direction until she’s landed them in this crowd. She’s thinking about what Hudson said about the people he knows, and it makes her face wrinkle. People he knows. Witches. Valrae. He always fought Alvina on ANYTHING Valrae related, everything. Alvina had to lose her best friend for Valrae (this is how Hudson’s accusation translates in her head right now), she had to give up her first wedding for Valrae, plenty of happy times and arguments spurred on by her. A constant catalyst between them and now this witch rights situation? Wasn’t it all just one big shady way to say WE HAVE TO PROTECT THIS WITCH I LOVE? It burned under Alvina’s skin. She’s wishing she hadn’t started walking, right about the time he’s gotten ahold of her wrist, so she flinched away like he’s a hot iron. “I agree, it’s completely ridiculous that you are trying to fight me right now.” Her pride makes her clarify the situation, to push the blame on Hudson. Surely he could have picked A BETTER TIME. She doesn’t want to see her own fault. It’s a war against Alvina, she’s the naive victim. There urge to be bratty here exists, tell him she’s walking home on her own but she knows it’ll just aggravate him further so they catch the next cab out of the crowd and take different window seats to stew in their thoughts. Alvina wants to cry, but she’s too livid, doesn’t want to give Hudson the satisfaction of knowing she’s -that- upset. She’d rather stand her ground than look foolish. “Can’t you just trust me?” Her wavering voice punctures the silence, the clinic several blocks behind them. “Trust that I can do something right?”


Hudson flushes when Alvina comes at him for fighting her right now. "I didn't know about it sooner," he hisses at her, flagging down a carriage and yanking the door open for her to climb in. It's tense inside, he's alone with the silence and his pounding headache and itching skin. He takes a salty solace in his werewolf tells, they're proof that he's martyring himself for the better argument. He wonders how they're going to manage this when they get home, even if they try to pretend mommy and daddy aren't fighting the girls will pick up on it anyway and act out, guaranteeing that the rest of the day will be terrible. Tomorrow too, if they don't mend fences. What a stark contrast to the night before, he thinks, sourly. Alvina's voice cuts through this fog of negativity. He looks at her like she's asked him if he believes the sky is blue. "Obviously I trust you, we're just not going to agree on this," he says to her, like her even asking is accusing him of being an intentionally terrible husband toward her. But even as he says that, he's thinking bitterly about how he kind of doesn't trust her sometimes. Just like how she doesn't trust him sometimes. This isn't even in the neighborhood of those issues they face, but their argument's picking at old resentments between them. He gazes out the window as he privately nurses an angry comeback to her, something in the vein of, how could I not trust you, you would never do anything wrong, that's not Saint Alvina, Saint Alvina only stands on the line, she never crosses it, it's just the line conveniently moves to wherever she wants it to be at any given time to justify whatever it is she's doing at that time. He says, instead, "We have to work on being in a better mood or the girls will be assholes. Marge has them now but I mean for later."


Alvina doesn’t know what to say. What he’s saying doesn’t agree with how it feels on her side of the carriage. She feels bad, but she can’t pinpoint why. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Seems a good place to start, “But it wasn’t for suspicious reasons. I just wanted to make an effort...to maybe make things better somehow.” The carriage bobs, coming to a halt as the flow of traffic ahead stops for traffic. Ah, the city. The bard’s arms are still crossed, trying to close herself off from this encounter as much as possible. “...Maybe…” she starts, hesitation in her voice as she keeps her emerald gaze on the still stones beside the carriage wheels outside. “Maybe we should go to that stupid boxing match with Macon and Josleen...even though I won the bet.” It’s a two fold gesture; Hudson will get to spend more personal time with Royal Couple and she’ll be able to ask some questions about the machine and how it’s being used. All she needs is to find out it’s cleared some witches, done something good, to be satiated. A small bit of proof to rub in Hudson’s face about how she is making a positive difference and doesn’t need him to babysit her decisions. Then he can go back to Joannie and tell her that Alvina is trying to help the witches, to end whatever trigger the article might have set off. She was no villain, and neither was Josleen. She’s willing to stake her life on it.


Apologies can be dissatisfying in a sense because sometimes they happen earlier than you're actually ready to deal with them. Case in point: right now. "OK," he says in response to Alvina's. He's still annoyed with her, an apology doesn't magically banish those feelings. "I'm sorry I fought with you on today of all days," he says, because under the universal rules of apologies he owes her one now, and that's what he has in the tank. Note neither of them apologized for their actual views, and the rest of the day is still likely to be tense and probably terrible, because these apologies just don't have enough ammo in them. Hudson feels a frisson of fresh annoyance as she makes this suggestion that they go to the boxing anyway, with Jos and Macon. Of course, Saint Alvina would suggest this. This is such a trap, of course he has to say yes, but she must know how annoyed he is about it. It's not that he has issues with spending time with Josleen and Macon. He's easily adaptable to any social situation, and had gotten along with surly Macon well enough before, at the guy's birthday party. It's just the principle of the thing. Everything is the principle, today. "Sure, maybe we should do that, that's a good idea," he hears himself agree. He sighs.


Alvina doesn’t feel relief from their apologies...not that they are empty but they aren’t resolving the actual conflict here. She addresses what she thinks might be the thing that triggered him, the secret of the thing, it’s not apparently. She’s even offering this other thing like a peace pipe but he’s only taking it because to say no would cause more friction. They are rolling over for the benefit of their home life and the twins, who will be brats if they come home like this. “Where is the carriage going?” she asks, in a low tone. Surely they aren’t going straight home like this, especially since Marge is there. And if they are...She shoots him a sober look. All the anger has drained from her expression, some spots of injured pride remain; her body language, her low tone, her frown. Her hand falls against his forearm cautiously, fearful that he’s still a hot iron that she shouldn’t touch. “Hudson…” She says, in a bittersweet tone. “I love you.”


"I gave the guy our address," says Hudson in a tired way, like he's just doing the best he can and what else does she expect, for him to think up some other random destination in the heat of the moment. It's quiet, then, he looks out the window as the homes become less densely packed together and start to stretch out, signaling that they're approaching their neighborhood. He is thinking about how he'd like to go to the gym or fly Cleo around, it'll help. He'll blow off steam about this. Later tonight, he can get his wolf on, he hasn't in awhile so just as well. Alvina touches his arm, and he glances at her. "I love you too," he says, automatically, in that same tired tone as before. He can still be annoyed with her but appreciate that he'd held his fire just moments ago. At a lower point in their relationship, he might not have. "All couples fight about stuff, at least what we we're fighting about matters," he sighs, knowing that what she wants is for him to console her. He doesn't want to console her, just like he hadn't wanted to apologize, but he can't not respond to her without making things worse. She's trying to make things better, or at least less terrible. So what she gets is this, him quasi-sulking but showing up. "I know we planned on taking the day off but ... ugh, I don't know. I kind of want to go to the gym but I also don't want you to feel weird," that's a veiled reference to a common excuse for staying out to see Valrae, "if I do."


Alvina feels a familiar panic slice through her. This distance she wants to bridge while Hudson is saying he wants them to spend time apart. It makes her feel hollow, stupid for trying to caulk over this proverbial hole. Her hand withdraws, with a downcast look and is folded back up across her chest while she sinks further into the opposite corner of the carriage to shift her misty eyes to the windows. All their fights can’t end because she’s caught crying. There’s just nothing confrontational about her. They won’t agree on the subject so it feels like beating their heads against a brick wall. Nothing will be accomplished by continuing to try and smooth it over. Alvina concedes, and soothes herself with the idea that tomorrow will be better without assuming something bad will continue. Yesterday had been so good...Her thoughts whirl until she realizes he’s said something that requires an answer. Without turning back to look at him, she just nods. Of course it’s so messed up, she doesn’t want him to leave. Alvina wants him to tell her it’ll be okay, they can work past this together as a team but she wagers he isn’t feeling much like a team player now. Their son...her mind is so crowded with other fears she can’t fully appreciate the third being in the carriage cart. “It’s fine.” She says in the deflated tone all women recognize as ’not’ fine at all.


Alvina is saying nothing in response to him. She's sulking now, he realizes. Great. They're both just going to carry on a conversation in slow motion, responding belatedly to one another, as they lick their wounds. He wonders if he should have somehow held it all, the newspaper article, to spring on her a better time. Except when is there a better time? There are no more good times. There's either time with their family, which is stressful and busy, or there's time with just the two of them, which (in theory) they want to be their reward for dealing with their family. He catches a nod from her, at last, and she says, "It's fine," in this way that's like setting a mouse trap beneath his feet. "Well, it's clearly not," he observes immediately. "But I don't know what else to do. If we're in the house together we're just going to be grumpy at each other. And since we're both home, the girls are going to want to hang out with us, even though Marge is there. I don't know what else to do, Alvina. I don't like arguing but we did."


Alvina still won’t look at him but no direction feels right here so she just talks to the side of the carriage. “We did, and now it doesn’t matter if you stay home or go to the gym…” She has to bite back the urge to add emphasis as if she doesn’t believe he’s really going there. “We are going to be in terrible moods even though we basically found out we are having a son. It’s just...this was supposed to be the time we did things the right way and it’s all messed up...I just wanted that one moment for us to be thankful that we did this thing and we are together and now you can’t even look at me without hissing through your teeth….like some kind of bulky tea kettle and…” Alvina’s words melt into a formless exhales and bites of silence she takes to maintain her composure. She doesn’t want to jump to the idea of shutting down the machine, is fairly sure that’s what Hudson is doing. Punishing her until she says she’ll stop it. No. She won’t, not until she talks to Josleen and finds out what’s going on. Let him run off to check on Valrae the witch. It seems like Valrae can make all the bad decisions she wants and only get praised while Alvina has to be in line with Hudson’s ideals at all times. Maybe that’s why he liked her better...Why can she still reach them?


"Pretty much," agrees Hudson in wilted fashion, about their moods being a constant regardless of his physical location. He feels the sting in her comment about the baby, though. Her way of telling me how Valrae's ruined even this, he thinks, and he's exhausted by it. He's so tired of Valrae, he wishes he'd never spoken to the blond witch, whatever joy and happiness he'd gotten out of their doomed love affair has long been eclipsed by the damage it's done to everything. He thinks about this idiot Hudson, this past self who suffers from a special kind of madness, the kind that makes you believe you've got it all under control and can stop at any time before it blows up. And even now it's like this nuclear bomb buried beneath the ground he and Alvina walk on. He sighs, again. "Alvina," he says to her, because he can sense she's building up momentum here and probably going to cry about how today's ruined. "I can just swim in the pool if you prefer.. I don't know what to tell you. We still had that moment. I'm sorry we argued but we still had that moment. And we have months of having that moment ahead of us. And this thing you did... well you already did it so what can I do now besides be mad. I can't be mad forever? Pretty mad now but it's done, I accept that you did this thing that I don't like. Next time ask me. That's it."


"We didn't." She argues in a whisper. "You came in weird, you couldn't look at me. We left in the same way, me worrying about what was going on with you and you being mad about this. I don't know what else I can say..." Here he goes on to say he can't be mad forever and everything else is said and done, bound to heal. There were no spotless moments, only moments less stained by real life consequences. "We can talk about it next time," She rephrased it purposefully. It's not about asking for permission is it? Her skill set doesn't require his approval. She doesn't check with him about weapon blueprints, they aren't still Eyrie members co managing a project for stupid smoke signals.


Hudson feels a prickle of defensiveness. Why is she making him feel guilty about this? He can't just switch off his reactions to inflammatory information. "If I could have somehow not read that paper until tomorrow or something, that would have been preferable," he agrees, plainly frustrated. He exhales roughly as she concedes that NEXT TIME they can talk about it. "Good," he says. He misses the change in her wording, mostly because he assumes that if she'd brought this up with him beforehand, she would have agreed with him in the end before committing to help the crown. He thinks about how stupid this is, that it results in an argument for them, one that he's going to forgive her for, but if Josleen and Macon abuse her machine as he fears then there are actual consequences to people who don't deserve those consequences. Which means he'll have forgiven his wife for doing a seemingly banal thing with very evil results. Isn't that always how horrible things happen? People are just following orders, doing seemingly ho-hum things, which in the aggregate achieve a hideous result? Thinking about it like that, suddenly, really bothers him. "Alvina," he says abruptly, "if you learn about them misusing your machine, I want you to promise you'll break it. That's the last I'm going to say about this."


Alvina continues to stare out the window, disgusted that he has to ask. “I’ll blow it to bits if it ever comes to that…”