RP:Mandamus

Part of the Through A Glass, Darkly Arc

Summary: Hudson, Uma, and Valrae meet to discuss relations with Larket and what will be done with the mole.

The Whalers' Bar

Uma had sent word to Valrae that Hudson had wanted a meeting. The address set for the meeting was Whaler's Bar, except when Uma had arrived it had been deserted except for the barkeep. Hudson, clearly flexing some muscle in this choice of venue, had arrived afterwards. "Did you get a drink?" he asks Uma, who shakes her head, finds herself thinking that he looks tired. "Get her a glass of white, I'll have a beer," he tells the guy behind the bar, before rejoining her at the table at which she's chosen to sit.

"Do you know who did it yet?" asks Uma, without saying so directly referencing the bomb that had been sent to his home.

"No," replies Hudson, flatly. "And the Larket child services documents were forged. Evidently a tactic to make my wife open the door." He leans back on his side of the booth as their drinks are placed on the table in front of them. "Thank you," he tells the bartender.

Uma's brow twitches. "How's she holding up? And Bryce?"

"Fine. Easier the second time around, but it's a baby, so, usual stuff." He takes a swig from the brown bottle before him and studies the label. "Would be better if people weren't trying to blow my family up."

Uma stares at her glass of wine. "I keep waiting for something to happen to me. I haven't slept much either," she reveals, before reaching for it.

"A theme," comments Hudson grimly, gazing toward the door.

Valrae was less than excited and far from surprised to receive word from Hudson. After the barrier her fantasy of stepping back into an older, simpler time had been shattered and she'd had plenty of time to adjust herself to reality. The witch mulled her situation over as she made her morning tea and scanned the paper she'd stolen from Astrid's neighbor's stoop. He'd chosen a public place, This wouldn't have set her mind at ease on it's own but he'd also chosen the place Lionel had been staying. She couldn't imagine either of those things were coincidences on his part and she drew her own conclusions about what the hidden message was. He wasn't going to kill her or turn her into Larket.

She was late by design. A petty, reckless part of her wanted to show Hudson she didn't answer to him. She still showed because a smarter, self preserving part of her realized that in a very real way she did. She ignored the other parts of her, the ones that reminded her of her twisted sense of loyalty and how much a role he and his family played in her rival. When Valrae slides into the Whaler she arrives just as their drinks do. She orders a glass of red before nodding to Hudson and smiling at Uma as she takes her seat beside the other witch and hangs her giant peach colored bag off of her chair.

To Hudson she might have been a stranger. Valrae's new body was slightly taller and while still thin, less waifish. She wore glossy peach lipstick and carried the scent of salt and sand with her. Her wrapped dress was silk died earthy green and her wedged heels were warm brown. Rough cut jade hung from thin chains that dangled from her ears and neck. Gold hooped bracelets crowded her wrists. Her hair was characteristically wind tossed and beach waved but the locks were dark chestnut and no longer wheat and gold. Her face was more dramatically angled, her nose slightly longer and her brows more defined. Her eyes no longer doe wide but narrowed and almost feline, the emerald irises the only unchanged aspect of her appearance. She looked put together and well rested as she propped an elbow on the table and frowned at Hudson.

"I was expecting more of a 'Welcome Back to Life!' party," The witch says dryly. "But I didn't even get flowers,"

Uma turns in her seat, and Hudson's eyes follow Valrae as she enters the establishment. She's literally a different person, but she's the same in some ways. It's there in her gait, in the way she holds her body, her demeanor as she slides in across from him. He wonders, briefly, what he'd think of her if they met now, as strangers. She's not so broken winged anymore, and he's not so playful and carefree either. Unclear if either of them are presently even still attracted to the people they used to be. What a world.

Actually, just kidding: he'll always have a soft spot for the broken winged ones. Gods help him. It's why he surrounds himself with the tough women - the Meris, the Joanies, the Umas, the Eleanors. He'd count Valrae among them now but for their history. Problematic on a good day.

"Good to see you," Uma had said, embracing Valrae on their side of the booth. "Thank you for coming." She reaches to touch one of the dangling earrings. "These are very nice."

Valrae's remark about there being no welcome back to life party makes Hudson chuckle. "Yeah, I'm not sure any of that would play so well, considering," he comments. "You do look nice," he adds, in a neutral tone.

"We were just talking about their new baby. A boy," says Uma, strategically.

"Easy."

Uma sits back against the booth and reaches for her wine glass.

Hudson decides to change the subject and get right down to the awkward business. "I'm sorry I almost prevented your resurrection," he informs Valrae, meeting her gaze. He lifts his eyebrows. "I don't... think I need to explain why, I think that's awkward for all of us. Anyway..." he clears his throat, "you're here again now, so... welcome back." A beat. "Uma tells me you know you're supposed to vanish, great. So, the plan in the immediate future is to deliver a woman to Larket and tell them that she's Valrae so we can kiss and make up. Uma says it's an easy job to make her look like the present you."

"Isn't the woman their former mole in my office? Aren't we worried that she'll try to talk?" Uma is quick to cut in.

"She snitched," says Hudson, his tone suggesting that the answer here is obvious.

"That's my point."

"We cut her tongue out."

Uma grimaces, draws breath sharply.

"That's the part you object to," remarks Hudson a bit dryly, meeting Valrae's gaze over his beer bottle as he drinks again. "Are you good with this?" he asks her. "You have to be careful after this, you know. Including with your... ah, situation." That's how he chooses to describe Lionel. "People can't know you're alive."

“Thanks! It’s good to see you too!” Valrae chirps to Uma, smiling brightly and preening the way women do to with other women when they’ve been complimented. She sends the same smile to Hudson, though with decidedly less wattage.

No, they weren’t the same people they used to be. Her thoughts run parallel to his for a small moment, the thoughts of every person who sees a former lover ever. The what ifs and what nows. It didn’t matter though, not anymore. Uma mentioning Hudson and Alvina’s new child only serves to underline this. The witch smiles again and congratulates him though the look he levels Uma suggested he’d prefer a different topic. She let’s it shift easily. The change is just as awkward but somehow less dangerous.

“You don’t,” She interrupts him briefly, because the reasons were plentiful and obvious. That hadn’t stopped her from being a little hurt but she’d made her peace with in. She does her best to keep her new face passive. “Thank you,”

She’d never been terribly good at her poker face though and a darkness crosses her. She waits until the barkeep places her wine in front of her and moves away before she attempts to speak again. Before she can Hudson and Uma rapid fire a conversation they’ve surely had more than once before. She shares a similar reaction with Uma around the tounge bit and meets Hudson’s eyes frowning.

“Huds,” Uncertainty marrs her features and she buys herself time by taking a long drink of her wine. She was suddenly relieved Lionel and Esche were away on Alliance business. He’d never understand this part of her life. He follows his warning of her being careful with a remark to her ‘situation’, which could only mean Lionel, and she narrows a look at him.

“You’ll kill her regardless,” She doesn’t phrase it as a question but her eyes ask him all the same. If someone was going to die anyway, would that ease the guilt of them dying in her place? Probably not but she was willing to do the moral and mental gymnastics in an effort to try. “Could we do something to make sure it isn’t painful?” Her face is bleakly hopeful as Valrae looks between them. She hisses a breath and decides to finish her wine. Annocance skittered up her spine. This mystery woman was a mole, a snitch. She’d gotten herself involved and she’d gotten herself as good as killed already. That would be enough. The next time she meets Hudson’s eyes her own are steeled. “I appreciate it,” She says honestly, “And my ‘situation’,” The world drips with sarcasm. “Is my business. I know to be careful.”

Hudson lifts his eyebrows at Valrae. He's fairly certain she understood what he meant by 'situation.' He's allowed to be a little petty, even though he personally is on good terms with Lionel. "Have to," he confirms what she's guessed about the mole. "This seems more just, don't you think?" Rhetorical question. He doesn't respond to Valrae's sparring on her 'situation.' He knows her to be careful. He'd just wanted to make the remark.

As to Valrae's question, he looks at Uma, who is gulping down wine.

"I can try to negotiate something," she says, frowning. "I don't want another public burning."

"Agreed on the public burning, but she's still a snitch," Hudson reminds them both. He drinks from his beer and sighs. "Why don't you suggest an execution in neutral territory."

"They'll never agree to that. Macon is unreasonable--"

"Not if you tell them I want to do it personally," the words come out almost playfully. Hudson, his expression tranquil, glances between the women and smiles.

An awkwardness expands around the table.

"That's horrible," whispers Uma.

"It is horrible," agrees Hudson.

"Goddess, it might work."

Valrae purses her lips as a chill skitters down her spine. The witch wishes she had more wine to hide behind. The conversation had somehow managed to taken an ever darker turn than cutting a woman’s tongue out. She finds her eyes being pulled to the door and waiting for it to fly open with Lionel slanturing in and asking what exactly she was doing helping orchestrate a woman’s death. It frustrated her that she worried and cared.

“It’s crazy enough to work,” Val agrees with Uma after another hissing breath. She looks at Hudson for a long while. He would do it. Her annoyance and frayed nerves are somehow soothed by this. It was crazy. It was awful. But he would do it and it would keep Larket away from her long enough for her to chip away at the skulls and support the Alliance with Lionel. It would keep her safe. Her shoulders relax. Thank you springs to her lips again but she holds it back, hopes the softening of her expression says it clear enough for him.

The bar around them chatters and her wine is finally refilled. Valrae angles her body toward Uma and drops her chin into her hand. “I was thinking of calling a meeting,” Her tone is casual but her eyes watch the other witch carefully. “I want to speak with the witches who keep the skulls and those who were there the night I was resurrected.”

Hudson meets Valrae's gaze because it seems like the right thing, or at least the least wrong thing. Is she wondering whether he might enjoy it? (Would he enjoy it? Of course not, right?) At first, her demeanor is inscrutable, but then something softens in it, and he wishes he'd ordered some fries or something for the table. To break up the residual strangeness that makes the air humid. As if sensing that it might do to insert a distraction, the barkeeper comes by to refill their drinks. And Valrae makes her suggestion of a meeting. Hudson leans back in his side of the booth, grateful for the tactful change of topics. The moment feels reset. For a second, he can pretend they're all simply old friends, not engaged in deep political collusion.

"I really think we should," says Uma, her expression gone quickly from ashen to animated. "We might still need to use them. Even if I smooth it over with Larket, we can't trust them entirely to have our backs."

"We need to stay close with Frostmaw," says Hudson.

Uma's gaze slants toward Valrae before returning to him, across the table. "Yes, well. I think it can be arranged," she says evenly. "It's a good thing the ritual went forward."

"I think so too," Hudson tries not to look exasperated.

Uma thins her lips. "Mmm," she hums.

"I'm sorry," he says to her.

"I know," she replies, with a gracious but fragile smile. Her attention returns to Valrae. "Marcie had everyone's contact information. I still haven't cleaned out her desk." She smiles a thin smile and squeezes the other woman's forearm. "Let me know when and we'll arrange it." Pause. "I want to say goodnight to my son. Please excuse me for being rude." And with that, she wraps her arms around Valrae in a quick embrace and slides out of the booth.

Hudson visibly contemplates what to say once it's just himself and Valrae. He buys himself some time by lifting his eyebrows and sighing into his glass.

The barkeep stops by the table, asking if they want anything to eat.

"No thanks," says Hudson, smiling genially. He exchanges a look with Valrae and slides out of his side of the booth. "I've gotta say goodnight to some kids too," he says. He doesn't move to hug her, but it's not weird. "See you."