RP:In the Aftermath of the Worst Party Ever

Summary: After the RP:Worst Party Ever, Alvina goes to check on Hudson. It was a good thing she missed the party too!

Sea Breeze

Alvina spent two entire evenings trying to find the party Hudson had mentioned...but the more she asked the people in town, the more they shooed her away or told her to get lost, as it were. Terribly lost and unable to attend the party or the after party, the bard tucked herself into an inn for two night, hoping to have some luck in the third morning. Guilt racked her heart as she scurried around to buy breakfast pastries and other sweet and savory foods wonderful for morning after the after party endeavors. She had all the intention of cooking the party boys a feast to absorb all the alcohol and bad decisions they undoubtedly overindulged in the past two night before. Finally, someone seemed willing to give her directions and she found the house...or so, she supposed it was suppose to be. It most resembled a hastily thrown together shack on the outside...but it did seem weather worn so it must not be new, so it must be sturdy enough a structure for now. With a silent shrug, the bard rapped her knuckles on the door, calling out a careful "Hudson?" in case she had the wrong place.

The aftershock of the brutal mermaid murder isn't quick to dissipate. Hudson is slow moving. There of course are inquiries that have to be handled by the boys, interviews, sobbing family members and close friends. It sucks the life out of him. There's cleaning to be done, but he hardly can manage it. He makes an effort, but truth be told, he wants to go home to his mum and hide out there. Of course he remains. With the steady stream of people coming by to follow up on the event, it seems irresponsible to peace out. And it continues into the second day after the accident. Mercifully, things begin settling down around the afternoon. When Alvina drops by, Sargaso isn't at home, off taking care of his life that's no doubt been put on hold due to this tragedy. Hudson loiters on the couch by himself, then, drinking a beer and eating graham crackers in a pair of shorts and a bathrobe. He could use a shave. He's staring at a novel and making no progress. There's a small stack of used red cups beneath the couch and in various other locations in the shack: the half-way cleaning effort. He hears the knock and stiffens, assuming that it's another opportunity to relive what happened. A journalist or someone equally depressing, but something in the warmth of his name makes him realize it's not. "Alvina?" he calls out, his arm dipping to set the crackers down on the floor. He pushes himself upright and moves himself to the door, which he opens to face Alvina. "Hey," he says, offering her a weak smile. "It's good to see you. You ah... want to come in?"

Alvina stands at the door, preparing a sympathetic smile for the still hung over crowd…only to find Hudson to answer in an otherwise empty looking house, at first glance. “I thought you boys could use some breakfast…” She says, a little meekly, while she processes his tone and demeanor. It wouldn’t do to tell him but he looked rather rough. Maybe that was just how party goers looks after two days and nights of drinking and beer pong. Alvina stepped in carefully, arms full of food, to see the chaos that remained. There was a thickness that weighed on her empathetic heart; something was wrong. “Hudson?” She looked at him with a confused urgency, tempted to beg him to tell her but also moderately aware that he might not want to. Instead, she settled for setting the groceries on the nearby couch and wrapping her arms tightly around him, holding him until he no longer wished to be embraced.

Hudson makes a muffled noise at the base of his throat and steps away from the door to let Alvina in. It's dark inside. He should have lit a lamp or something, but with things being the way they are, he hadn't. This occurs to him as he shuts the door behind Alvina, making the lack of light all the more evident. "Sorry, I should have put a lamp on or something," he mutters, drifting toward the couch and reaching for one such lamp. He goes about lighting the wick as Alvina curls herself around him. The lamp, once lit, casts flickering shadows throughout the room, revealing the extent of the mess that has been corralled but not exactly cleaned. Having set the lamp on the floor, Hudson leans against Alvina and shuts his eyes, one arm coming over hers. A silence pools around them as they sit this way for several moments. Eventually Hudson, without untangling himself, reaches below the couch to retrieve his beer, which he sips, before offering some to Alvina. "You're sweet for coming. I'm glad you didn't come to the party," he says eventually. "I don't know if you heard, or read in the paper, but there was a mermaid attack, so... things have been a little rough."

Alvina eventually lets go of Hudson, moving some clutter from the floor and couch as she sits beside him. She watches the beer touch his lips in the candle light and frowned. A wave of her metallic digits would decline his offer; she didn’t need to drink and thought perhaps he didn’t either, truly. But what could she say in the wake of the news? “That must be why no one would give me directions…” she mumbled, twisting crimson ribbons in the flickering flame light. “I did try to make it in time, but…I couldn’t find the place fast enough I guess…” Alvina shared Hudson’s sentiment and was doubly glad she hadn’t made it in time. At first she thought she could stand a group of drunken boys more or less for Hudson’s company but…the more she saw and heard, the more it must have turned into a disaster. If she had been here, could she have saved whoever they had lost? The thought was fleeting. What mattered more at the moment was trying to stitch whatever threads had broken in Hudson. His grief was thick in the small space; the bard feared she might cry if she didn’t do something productive. “Here, let me take this stuff to the kitchen. Have you eaten recently?” She spies the graham crackers and tssks him softly, reaching out to smooth a rather unruly tuft of his unkempt hair. With a calming silence, she decided to just try to fill the space around him with affection and do her best to lift him from the fog he dwelled in. She wouldn’t ask any more questions, but would move about cleaning a few dishes she needed to prepare the food and get it into the fire while also shuffling around the small space to deposit cups onto trash bins. Small chores seemed overwhelming in the face of dealing with a loss.

Hudson doesn't come off as drunk, just as someone making juvenile meal choices. He sips more of his beer, shifting to allow Alvina to slide out from beside him as she makes her way to the 'kitchen,' which is to say a stove and sink. "I've eaten stuff here and there. Such as graham crackers," he says, holding still as she touches his hair, his gaze trailing her as she moves away, his snack in hand. He thinks about commenting that it's not necessary that she go fussing about the shack, but truth be told it's such a relief to be cared for, for a second. He curls up on the couch with his novel, nursing his beer and stealing looks her way as she moves about. Eventually he says the word "Thanks, you don't have to do any of this," a tinge of apology there in his tone for the mess that she'd had to come into.

In a way, Alvina couldn’t help but wonder if her actions were more akin to being a mother or a wife. In the end, she decided to just not note either preference and plated the cooked food to bring to Hudson. The dishes found their way into the sink, the plate was placed gently in Hudson’s lap on the couch, and it was then that she sat back down beside him with an affectionate but soft smile on her lips. She wore a look that encouraged him to eat but did not force him to if he wasn’t feeling up to it. With the place a bit more cleaned up, she had to admit it felt cozy here. “I know,” she held her smile in response to his thanks, “I rarely do things I –have- to do. I tend to lean more towards things I want to do. I’m a tad bit rebellious in that way, I suppose.” Her smile held as she looked at the plate she’d made for herself. “It’s no oatmeal,” she noted before lifting a fork of diced potatoes to her mouth to chew. The bard paused to see if the alchemist had any interest in eating, her caring gaze grazing him gently.

Hudson has a great deal of interest in eating, and does so, somewhat after the enthusiastic fashion of a wild dog. There evidently had been a lack of real food about the place prior to Alvina's arrival. And he says as much, between forkfuls of food, "This is like finding water in a desert, I expect." He looks toward the door to the shack, wondering idly about the whereabouts of his roommate, who no doubt had been eating poorly too. He says nothing about it, though, his attention reverting naturally to Alvina, tucked beside him. He reaches for his beer to wash down some of the meal, and, replacing the glass cup on the ground, drapes his left arm loosely around her back. He eats slower after that, in companionable silence, until his plate is cleared. He offers to take their plates to the sink and, standing there facing Alvina, breaks the silence that had spread out over them like a quilt. "I keep replaying what happened and wondering how it could have even happened. Everything was.... going, and then it got abruptly bad, and somehow worse." He rubs at his stubble with a flattened palm. "And we were all way too drunk to deal with it happening... It felt like a bad dream. And these last couple of days have been really grim, Alvina, what with people coming by... Ugh, I shouldn't even complain, I'm still here."

The subtle silence that wove itself around the pair came to a rather abrupt end with Hudson’s confession about food and, more so, the events that unfurled at the party. She had about to give him her own empty plate (she’d worked up an appetite among the chores), when his words brought another thought to her mind. Words which she said aloud. “It could have been you.” Like a dagger through the heart, she looked at him with renewed grief, tears springing for no real reason to the corners of her eyes as if he had been taken instead of the stranger. “Hudson…” She whispered, almost breathless, her heart throbbing with an intense ache. In a rush of motion, she stood, her plate falling back onto the couch as she wrapped herself around him in desperate need to reassure herself that he was in fact just fine and still there with her. “Thank the Gods…” She whispered into his neck, fighting the few tears that dared to make the journey down her face. “It’s terrible, I’m so sorry about your friend but I…” Pulling away, she eyed him with shimmering optics, the slightest tremble visible in their motion. “…I wish I could have been here…I might have been able to do something.”

Hudson's mouth twists into a rueful smile in response to Alvina's comment. He doesn't think it could have been him - his mermaid friend Fairfax was there and might have intervened, well maybe - but he keeps that thought, pregnant with guilt, to himself, and allows Alvina to fold herself around him. She's very warm, and he takes a certain amount of pleasure in this type of fretting that he would heretofore only encountered in his mum. He strokes her hair. Alvina's sudden grief makes him realize how strangely numb he must be to what happened. He doesn't really know how to console her, and he kisses the top of her head. "Yeah... the whole thing really makes you ponder your own mortality," he acknowledges, freeing up a hand to thumb away a tear that's streaked down her face. Realizing that maybe women don't want their faces randomly touched, he reaches into his pocket for a handkerchief. "Here. Alvina, I don't even know about wondering about how things might have happened differently. It's kind of... frustrating." He looks into her face. "Things happened the way they happened, and it's better you weren't there, yeah?"

Alvina stays near Hudson but suddenly feels a little over dramatic and shy as he smiles at her. Was she being too sensitive about this whole thing? As his thumb glides against her check, her gaze is downcast and she reaches up to hold his hand a moment in hers, before taking the handkerchief while chewing on her bottom lip thoughtfully as he spoke. “You’re right…it’s already done…” What gave her the right to fret so openly when Hudson had been there to witness and then deal with the aftermath like he’d mentioned before?! The stream of people and explanations must have been exhausting…for him and his house mate, wherever he might be. The bard decided it might be best if she put on a brave face and accompanied him as a vivid supporter through the events instead of another person to console when he might need the consolation a bit more. Alvina never really feared for her own life; something akin to vampirism empowered her curse and age did not touch her. Unless some foe saw fit to drive a lance through her chest, the bard wagered she would live a thousand years…This thought distracted her, kept her locked in silence and still in stance. Her head shook as she broke free. “I want to help in any way I can. Even if you just need some company.” Reaching forward, she squeezed one of Hudson’s hands with reassurance that in time, this would scab over and become less painful. But only if there was an attempt to leave the wound be instead of constant harassment that might lead to infection.

Hudson continues to stroke Alvina's hair, watching her sink into some contemplative silence of sorts. It's like a wall has come up, her expression is so unreadable to him, and then she pulls away, taking him by the hand. His gaze darts toward the door, and he once again ponders the whereabouts of Sargaso. Who knows when that guy would get back. "That's really sweet of you," says Hudson to Alvina. He pulls on her hand to bring her with him back to the couch. He sits on the sofa first, coaxing her to the edge, between his dangling legs. He takes both of her hands, even the metal one, and looks at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to excuse herself or pull away.

Alvina watches Hudson eye the door. “Are you worried about your house mate? Is he due back soon?” The bard was perfectly content to just be here, but as Hudson pulls her back to the couch, she blinked, a little confused, but moves with him to sit, her hands in his, as he eyes her. She did her best to smile; though there was a mix of sadness about their situation. His previous reservation made her a little afraid to delve too deeply in how she felt about him, and she cautioned herself to keep things on a friendly level. Part of her wanted to pull away, muttering something about the fact that they were coworkers, but that really wasn’t what she wanted in her heart of hearts. Instead she locked her eyes on his, asking him a thousand questions about things he wanted or felt in her mind, before deciding that it really didn’t matter if he knew how he felt or had gotten to know her anymore or not. She leans forward, pressing her forehead against his chest, drinking in the scent of the sea in his hair and skin.

Hudson's gaze floats over to the door, his mouth quirking under the strain of contemplation. "Yeah... I'm not sure when he'll be back," he answers, dropping the subject. He exchanges a very complex look with Alvina, it would seem. He seems a little slowed by indecision himself, and makes a surprised sound at the base of his throat as she moves in like a cat and rubs against his chest. He reacts immediately, shifting on the couch and freeing one of his hands to guide her upright a bit more with him, so that their faces are closer together. He kisses her gently, this time not bumping his face against hers (in short displaying better motor skills than that one time on the beach...). It's like a question mark, and after he rests his forehead against hers.

Alvina holds that complex look, a bit perplexed by his train of thought, searching his eyes carefully for any indication that he would speak his thoughts aloud. At the sound, she almost jumps back, worried that perhaps that was not what he wished her to do and she’d made an error of judgment. Her lips were poised to apologize for misreading the signal when he kisses her, their lips melting together in a bittersweet second kiss that set her heart ablaze. The bard’s eyelids flicker open slowly, as if his kiss stopped all logic and her brain needed a moment to reboot itself. Still, she searched his eyes for something, and when she saw it, she leaned forward and kissed him back. Before she pulled away, the tears that had been pooling in the corners of her eyes unnoticed trickled down her flushed pale cheeks to dot the top of his hand as he still holds hers.

Hudson's attention dips downward, and he tilts his hand, the light catching the wetness dotting his knuckles. Mildly alarming. He pulls a bit away from Alvina, giving her a bit more space. His hand fishes in his pocket for a handkerchief, but then he remembers that he'd already given it to her. A crease appears between his brows as he considers her flushed and wet-cheeked appearance. "Bad idea?" he asks her, his gaze searching hers. He's quick to reassure her, "We can just hang out if you want?"

Alvina wipes at her eyes with her palms, shaking her head softly, still smiling. " It's fine, I guess I'm still a little shaken about everything that happened." Her smile grew brighter and she put on a brave face. "I just..." The following sigh melts her smile just a bit. "I was engaged to be married, nearly seven years ago." Emerald eyes float down to an empty left hand. If she had been given ring, she no longer wore it. "You said you didn't know when I told you I liked you, and that you want to get to know me, and that's perfectly fine." Her smile brightens, "so let me tell you something about me. I was engaged for six years. My fiance left shortly after our engagement to find work to fund our wedding and never returned. Some told me rumors of an affair, or even his death towards the end. But he did go, and work, and return occasionally. Less and less as time went by. I loved him very much...and we were promised to spend the rest of our immortal lives together..." A few more tears form and fall. "I haven't been happy since be left, not truly. Not until I met you. I'm not asking you for anything, dear alchemist..." Here she places her hand lightly in his cheek, trying to smile, "I'm just telling you about me. What can you tell me about you?"

Hudson's gaze softens with empathy as Alvina explains the source of her tears. He touches her face, one thumb skating along a tear streak. And then, quite unexpectedly, he finds himself engaging in a conversation about Alvina's ex. Cue the record scratch sound effect. Or rather, Huds is stunned into silence as she explains, and left awkwardly staring at her as she cries over this guy. "Wow," he exhales at length, trying to sort out how he's even supposed to begin to touch this subject. "I'm sorry to hear about that... stuff that happened. I'm just a guy... definitely not immortal..." He thins his lips and rubs a hand along the back of his neck as he struggles with what he's supposed to disclose. "If you're wondering whether I have had any serious girlfriends, the answer is no?" he tells her, avoiding her gaze as they enter awkward territory. "I mean I lived with mum for so long... generally not so great at talking to women for the most part." He clears his throat. "Um, but that's not to say I've been a monk. So... that's the gist..." He inhales and meets her gaze, looking not a little pink in the face.

Alvina looks at Hudson through glassy eyes and grins, sort of mischievous. "You mean you're not a vampire?" She pretends to bare her imaginary fangs and pounces on him, kissing his neck a few times, trying desperately to break the awkward mood around them. Once she's pinned him, she'll loom a little grinning. "I'm not crying over some dumb ex, " she said without prompting, "I'm crying because I'm happy you're here." Her expression softens and she kissed the tip of his nose, "You know, with me." Then she'd move to sit up, blushing and a little light headed. "I swear I'm not asking for anything...except...that you do your best to kiss one girl at a time. Now that you're out on your own, women will smell am eligible bachelor and flock to you from cities away! I'll fight them, of course," she sticks her tongue out playfully. "but it's normally good manners to only kiss a girl you like."

Hudson snorts in response to any allegations that he might be a vampire. "Just pale," he answers her, bracing himself against the couch as Alvina 'attacks' him. He grins a little ruefully, allowing himself a weak laugh at her antics. His eyes follow her as she perks up and proceeds to lay down the law. "Right," he responds to her, trying to push himself up onto his elbows. He allows himself a deep breath as he considers her genuinely adorable expression. What has he unleashed here? "Alvina," he says carefully, "I'm not exactly kissing scores of other girls, and I do like you," best to lead with the strongest points, "...but maybe this conversation is a little... well, for example, I think we have kissed for only maybe 10 not-even-consecutive seconds." Lest she suddenly feel shattered by his hesitation, he adds, "But I think that it makes sense to assess this concept at a later date, when we have kissed for longer than 10 total seconds?"

Alvina held her wicked grin as Hudson goes on to explain how they have really barely even kissed by his standard and she couldn't help but be torn between outright asking him how many women he's kissed for less than ten seconds in the past few times they've met, and kissing him a decent twenty seconds to prove her wit. Instead, she withdrew both options and nodded. "I'll remind you of that sentiment when you propose." She was cheeky, but slightly wounded. She was, after all, a nice girl. And nice girls have an ideal of how these things are meant to work...even if that never proved true. "Stop being so serious," she nudged him, trying to wiggle free from her own insecurities. It felt like she was being rejected but she was still here. It was all very much a roller coaster of experiences and tended to end here, where they had a nice chat about being friends even though he'd kissed her. With a sigh, she surrenders, showing Hudson her palms in the air. "Don't shoot," her laughter lit the dark space partially, it was not entirely obvious that it was forced. "I'm cursed to never age anyway, I bet I can find a cutie in the next hundred years that wouldn't be so coy." Her tongue jutted from her lips, one lid hid her left eye as she winked.

Hudson tries not to look too visibly overwhelmed by this conversation. Propose----what!? He manages to chuckle in response to Alvina's teasing all the same. It's obvious to him that she's a nice girl, and he feels like he's falling a bit short here. He reaches to pull Alvina down with him onto the couch, inviting her to curl up beside him with her cheek against his chest, as they had on the beach. And so he tries to fold her into the circle of his arms. "Come here," he says. "You're freaking me out and I'm freaking you out I think." He holds his lips to the crown of her head. Her hair smells nice, and he hides a frown in it. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, so... Let's just promise to tell each other how we feel. Right now I feel like making it up to you, so if you think of something..."

Alvina buried her face in his chest calming, trying to suppress tears. Why didn't be like her? It was relaxing to be against him, having him hold her...she curled up like a kitten easily, pressed warmly against him as much as possible. "Please just hold me for a little while..." Her joyful tone deflated and she was very much herself, but a little withdrawn. "I don't want to be complicated.."she whispered into his chest, closing her eyes and drinking in the scent of him. Just being here made her feel leagues more normal. "...I just want someone to stay..." there it was, the heart felt confession she struggled with. What was it about the young woman that caused men to appear and then abandon her? What was wrong with her? Those questions didn't matter when Hudson was with her. Sometimes, she just didn't want to be alone. And she could tell, that Hudson didn't want to be alone all the time either...

Hudson feels a guilty pang at the dejected element in Alvina's voice, and he frowns into her hair as they sit there and she candidly tells him how she feels. He wonders if he has anything to say in response, and a silence creeps in around them. Eventually he manages, "People generally do the things they do because of something going on with them. Not as a reaction to you, Alvina." It's said gently. He shifts his posture slightly to try to meet her gaze. "Hey, it's not complicated," he tells her, his arm cinching around her back to give her a light squeeze. "I think you're sweet and really like you - that's not complicated - I just can't jump into anything."

Alvina kept herself tucked in against him for a while longer, letting the silence blanket them in a less awkward way this time. The comfort of these moments was beyond measure and the bard felt rejuvenated by his words. Could it be true that maybe she wasn't the problem? Hudson could probably feel her laugh a bit where she was, "I guess it sounds selfish to think it has something to do with me." Her laughter was light hearted, still a bit down but not as downcast as she was before. "Sometimes you just need someone else's eyes and ears to know better." Lifting her chin, the bard smiled at the male fully. "I'm not asking anything of you," She reminded him, "I promise." Her small frame shifts a bit, lifting her up to meet his eye level before she kisses him, very tenderly. When their lips part, she'll shift back against him and smile, weaving her fingers into his.

Hudson lifts one shoulder almost imperceptibly. "It's human nature to think that way," he says, looking at her as she begins to prop herself up against him. He says nothing more, but pushes himself upright to face her, meeting the kiss. It's sweet, and it does a bit to restore the mood between them, though as she tucks herself against him, he gazes at the ceiling, head spinning. Except for the metal arm, she is soft and fragrant and warm, and he wouldn't mind having a nap after that conversation. For the first time since the incident, he feels tired enough to maybe sleep for real. It'd be like a palate cleanser. He thinks for maybe the millionth time that Sargaso might come home, and happen on them just sleeping on the couch, and decides that he doesn't care. He reaches to tug a quilt hanging over the side of the couch over them.