RP:Undesired Welcome Gift

Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Hudson confronts Valrae about bidding on Alvina at the Larket Charity Ball, telling the witch that she's caused a great deal of trouble. She explains that it had been an accident. They argue, and Hudson, realizing that it's a poor idea for them to work together, almost fires Valrae but is interrupted by the discovery of a dead body in the nail salon's dumpster. Hudson, recognizing this as a calling card for the Larket organized crime guys, sends everyone except Valrae home, saying that he'll handle it with local law enforcement. He and Valrae then proceed to use witchcraft to melt the body.

The Witch-Run Nail Salon in Larket

It would be Valrae's second day of work at the nail salon. Around 10, Hudson arrives, making little to no small talk with the rest of the women and Joanie. He takes Valrae by the arm as he passes her, leading her into the little office room downstairs. He shuts the door. He leans against it, crossing his arms, his face glass in that it fails to conceal the agitation that he's trying to reign in. "Despite thinking about this extensively and playing this scene over in my head repeatedly, I still don't know how to say this so I'm going to just say it," he says the words in a low tone, hoping to keep their conversation to just them for obvious reasons. "I'm sure you know where I'm going with this," he adds, finally looking at Valrae. He had been addressing the floor. "Val. You bid on Alvina at that charity auction? Why... would you do that? I don't want to fight with you, I want us to be friends, for your life to be normal, but ... I mean ... what is that, haven't we embarrassed her enough? What are you doing? I just don't get it?"

Valrae was standing behind one of the tables, watching studiously as one of the other witches shows her some of the enchantments for the nails. This one makes the polish last longer, the next one evens out natural nails. It had been like this for most of the morning, all of the day before. Joanie was serious about her learning the face of the business before she could touch the hidden parts of it. It made sense and Valrae had actually enjoyed learning it. It wasn't so far from just plain painting sometimes, other times it was just using her craft, and for the most part she just loved learning for the sake of it. At least, that was her attitude yesterday. Today, she was hung over and tired. Her eyes were sore, swollen and felt gritty every time she blinked from crying herself to sleep. Her head was pounding like a drum and her mouth was dry and every time she burped she tasted last night's mistakes. Still, she'd managed to pull her hair up into perfectly coiled and glossy pony's tail. She'd lined her eyes and stained her lips and added a small glamour for her vanity's sake when makeup couldn't quite erase all traces of a hard night. Her top was rose hued silk, quarter sleeved and tucked into a high waisted pencil skirt with blooms of peonies patterned on it. She looked professional and put together and not at all the crumbling mess she felt in her secret heart. Val didn't notice Hudson enter, yelped when he took her arm and steered her into his office while almost tripping in her heels. "What the h-" The door clicked, Hudson leaned against it and barreled through the conversation at a pace that made her aching head spin. She felt her temper rising like a hand sliding up her spine. "Why is it when you say we," Val crosses her arms and leans just enough so that her golden hair sways behind her. "It sounds more like you. As in, 'haven't you already embarrassed her enough'?" The witch accused with the narrowing of her dark eyes. "It seems like you would rather fight to me. So, maybe clue me in on how this embarrasses her? Pretty sure I'm the one who looks like the stalker who can't manage to leave your poor family alone." She rolled her eyes, decided that was a bad idea by the way they stated to ache and pressed one hand to her forehead while holding a finger up. Pause, please. Deep breath. "Look. It was an accident."

Hudson looks at Valrae with impatience, like her resistance to his objection is so childish, more unreasonable than his daughter refusing to literally eat this morning (constant struggles, man, YOU GUYS HAVE TO EAT). "Pretty sure it does make you look like a bunny boiling stalker, yes!" he agrees in his best sotto voce yell. What does she mean it had been an accident? His temper abruptly bottoms out, recedes like a tide, although his face is still flushed. "An accident?" he hears himself say, the words rife with incredulity. "You bid on Alvina By Accident?" he is whispering as loudly, and as most outragedly as one can humanly whisper at another person. "I tried to tell her that I would just pay you off and she wouldn't have to, but now, she. Is. Insisting, because she thinks, Valrae, that you want to tell her something, like I don't know. I of course told her immediately that I hired you and now she freaking hates me over it again. We're not even talking." He exhales his frustration. "What the F do you mean, An Accident? How do you do that By Accident?"

'Bunny boiling stalker'? Normally, that would have made her laugh until her sides ached. Fight or no. But she was tired and heart sick and very hung over. So instead of finding the humor in that statement she was only hurt by it. Valrae recoiled, as if he'd thrown an actual punch instead of just a verbal one. "If you would just shut up for a second," She wasn't actually bothering to whisper even though it made her head ache so terribly she had to clench her fists and blink away the spots in her vision. "I could mention that was fall down drunk. Maybe I could tell you how I was just donating that money to charity anyway and thought it would be nice to do it in her name but I was too damned hammered to remember that signing my own name would be a mistake! I could probably even tell you all about how I was alone and out of my mind!" She was beyond the point of return now. "I'm sorry if, once again, I put a bump in the picket fence life you two have going on but before you get the idea in your head that I'm some bunny boiling stalker," She repeated his words and they tasted like poison. "Out to destroy your life please, please consider the fact that I'm a little busy falling apart!"

"What," enunciates Hudson, now using his inside voice although the tone is far from friendly. He folds his arms across his chest, his gaze boring into Valrae as she explains how they all came to be in this very awkward situation. He runs a hand along his forearm, the skin there is prickling like mad. His eyes roll wildly as she gets in her dig at the end. "'A bump in the picket fence life.' You want to make me feel like the bad guy, I get plenty of that at home, go AHEAD pile on," he snipes at her in a withering tone. "UGH." He pounds his fist against the wall, a growl boiling in the base of his throat. He releases a stream of expletives that are better not printed here. "That's some drunk mistake, it was like a bomb went off in my house," he tells her on the tail end, still reeling with anger though now they've clearly reached an impasse in their argument. "Gods damnit, Valrae," he curses again, pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, as if the sight of her were too much. "Don't," he says in a clipped manner, without looking, in case she gets any ideas about trying to calm him down or approach.

Valrae's anger wavers and dims, like the fame of a candle fighting against the wind. Hudson's fist connected with the office wall and the witch looked away. She put her hands up, cease fire, but didn't need his warning. She wouldn't try to calm him. Val half-sits on the desk with a sad sigh and crosses her ankles. There was a tense silence. "I'm not trying to make you feel like the bad guy," She said finally, her tone sad and tired as her eyes narrowed at the floor. "I'm trying to apologize," Her laugh was humorless. "It probably doesn't sound like that but to be fair," A shrug, the cross of her arms. "Well, our conversation started with you dragging me in here and..." She gave another shrug, turned her dark eyes to him. "I am sorry. I didn't mean for any of this to happen, it was just a mistake." Val stands, straightens her shirt and her hair, wipes under her eyes in the practiced way women do when they want to minimize makeup damage. Her life might be spinning out of control but she was too proud to look the part. "I never expected her to spend time with me, I swear that's not what I wanted and I'm sorry if it embarrassed her. You could tell her that." She cleared her throat and walked toward the door. "I know the way out."

Hudson presses his fingers into his eyelids. He is turtling in his frustration. He wants to believe Valrae, the Valrae he'd known wouldn't do something so messy. Except she'd plainly done it, drunk or by mistake, or whatever, it's now a thing that's happening and because of it he'd had to tell Alvina about giving Valrae the job and that had incited no small amount of domestic strife. And now, he knows he has to fire Valrae, and he's dragging his heels. He doesn't want to, for so many reasons. Yes selfishly he'd like to see her sometimes, but also he owes her, Alvina owes her, the girls owe her, because she literally went to jail and suffered so that their family could be unmolested as a result of his flying off the leash and spontaneously murdering a guy in the street. It makes him angry that Alvina wants him to fire her (she hadn't had to ask, he'd offered quite contritely), and then it makes him angry that she's every right to insist it, because when you follow this long ball of twine to the very beginning, it leads back to him deciding to flirt with a pretty woman on the beach. Like an idiot. Valrae's excusing herself, perhaps he doesn't need to say any of this out loud, but her escape is interrupted by the arrival of Joanie, who lets herself in without even knocking. Joanie is naturally fair, but her face is the color of clean ice. "Please come, something awful," the words are muffled by her hand, which is covering her mouth. She leads them out the back door of the establishment, into the alley, where the building's dumpster is located and several of the other girls are waiting, and crying, clutching each other. Joanie gags as she attempts to point out what's so upsetting - at the very corner of the dumpster, just visible, is the discolored hand of a corpse.

Valrae didn't need to hear Hudson say it. It was reasonable to assume that this conversation was going to end and her employment would with it. The thought of Hudson or his family owing her anything wouldn't have crossed her mind and would be an idea she would fiercely oppose. Her eyes were dry and her face was in a disinterested pout but inside she was screaming. What would she do now? Hudson was the last delicate line she'd had to cling to. This job was the only thing left to fill her time. Irenic was gone. Quizzical was gone. Her home, her life, her world as she'd known it was gone or other wise out of her reach. Nothing was familiar or safe. Suddenly this gaping mouth of time opened up before her and she had no purpose to fill it and no one to turn too. And then there was Joanie, looking pale and serious as she said something vague and led them outside. The witch stole a glance at Hudson as they went. It made her heart ache so she turned away. She didn't really grasp the seriousness of the mood until she saw the crying group of witches huddled together. She glanced at Hudson again, golden brows arched in question, before slowly walking closer to inspect.

A stream of expletives exits Hudson's mouth, and continues to exit his mouth as he hoists himself up on the dumpster to balance there and get a better look. So, yeah, there's a dead body in there. This is not unlike that scene in the Wire where McNulty and Bunk are investigating a crime scene. The cursing stops after Huds' balance gets a little dodgy, and he's forced to hop down back beside Valrae. "Go home for the rest of the day, guys," he addresses the huddled witches, not Valrae. He touches her on the elbow, not accidentally, either. It's a silent request: Stay. "I have to get the city guards," that's a lie, he's amazed by his own calmness. The women don't delay in leaving the alley. Joanie lingers in her managerial capacity, and Hudson tells her to close up the shop and leave too, he'll take care of everything. Left alone at last with Valrae, he looks at her, the irritation he'd felt moments ago receding far away into the background, replaced by the anxieties of the present. It's good to have her by his side in this capacity. "I'm not calling the guards, this was organized crime," he says, quietly. "We have to get rid of it. I'm thinking I'll roll him up in the rug in the break room unless you have any other ideas, you're the witch." A beat, while he considers her. "You OK?"

Valrae makes do with what she can see from ground level. Balancing on a dumpster in heels was beyond her level of skill. Her mouth was drawn in a serious line, her brows furrowed, but she was otherwise composed. It wasn't the first body she'd seen and wasn't likely to be the last. Val gave a tiny nod without looking up. She would stay. Hudson dismissed the unsettled masses, even coaxed Joanie away, while she crossed her arms and tapped her chin thoughtfully. His voice pulled her out of her contemplation and she finally pulled her dark eyes away fro the deceased. She nodded at him again. Cenril was a thriving plethora of gang activity and drug markets. Valrae has seen enough to know. She gave him a Look when he mentioned the break room rug. "I am too hung over to haul a body in heels," The witch shook her head, blond pony tail swaying, and rolled her eyes. "Besides, I like that rug." She added dryly. "Keep and eye on him while I get my book," She glanced back at the corpse then back to Hudson and hurried back into the salon. She fished her book out of her bag, grabbed a bottle of nail polish that happened to be a vibrant shade of pink called Tickle Me, and hurried back. She was thumbing through the pages as she asked, "Do we have a hose? We're going to need a hose... And I need you to crawl in there. With him." She held out the polish.

Hudson wonders who the dead body was, before he was dead, even. The face hadn't been familiar. He snorts at Valrae's objections to rolling the guy up in the rug. In his opinion he lug the guy around, although it would probably look obvious because rugs aren't that heavy. He's open to further ideas. Apparently she has them. "Yep," he agrees to stand watch - as if corpses just ran off, really - as she fetches her book. He feels unreasonably calm about the entire situation. So calm that he wonders if he is secretly about to suffer some kind of lycanthropic episode. As Valrae totters back outside, in heels, he now notes, he is seized very abruptly with affection for her. You know who always puts up with his crap? Valrae. And what a positive attitude she has, she's a formidable woman, he thinks, as he watches her flip through what he assumes is a grimoire. He can sort of see down her shirt and for a solid five seconds stares directly at the peril before he catches himself and realizes she's asked him a question. This is a poor time to start reflecting fondly on the days spent burning up in her bedroom. He reminds himself that however 'cool' Valrae is now, the situation is a bit like touching a hot stove. Also, they really do have to get rid of a dead body, that's no joke. "I'm an alchemist, I can literally make water if that's good," he says, about the hose. He accepts the nail polish, reads the label. "Do they all have names that are a little 'sexual innuendo,'" he wants to know. Also: "Why am I getting in there, with the body?" He tugs on the hem of his shirt, evidently trusting that her request is a legitimate one necessary for (presumably) a spell. "Should I take my clothes off, ... uh, with the water and dead person ..."

Valrae is calm because somehow over seeing the clean up of a dead body is less frightening than trying to figure out her life. She had a purpose, a clear goal... And Hudson. Before prison she'd never been afraid to be alone, almost preferred it sometimes, but now? Sure, they were dumpster diving with corpses but she wasn't doing it by herself. Val looked up from the weathered pages of her book when he didn't answer and just missed his distracted eyeing of her chest. "Should work." She answered before giving him a half of a smile. "For the most part, yes. And I need you to climb in there to draw this symbol," she held up her book of shadows and pointed at the symbol inked darkly on the top of the page. It was like a cross only the top was connected to a side ways bolt of lighting shape, the right side a curved m shape and the bottom was similar to a three on it's side. The whole page was written in a curling, unusual script. The sketched image of a skeleton bubbling and dissolving was placed helpfully underneath. "On his forehead." The witch's mind made a traitorously mad dash to the same shut in nights his had been moments before when he pulled at his shirt. She quickly looked back to her page. Yes, dead bodies are serious and why on earth would you think of anything remotely pleasant while trying to get ride of them? Get it together Val. "Uh, yeah. And keep your mouth closed." She added vaguely. She'd wait for him to climb up and in and helpfully hold up her book for him to get the symbol drawn right. When he gave her the go a head she'd recite the spell. Power gathered slowly in the air around them. The air would grow heavy and crouch there. Like the quite moments before a thunderstorm. After the fourth reciting of her incantation, the bottom of the storm would fall out and crash around them, unseen but palpable all the same before it funneled into the dumpster and onto the body. The witch knowingly took a step back as the corpse started to bubble audibly. Soon, the skin would boil and break apart, messily, and slowly melt and dissolve into black oily goo that smelled indescribably foul. It would ooze and drip off of perfectly clean bones, save the Tickle Me pink mark that would glow right between empty sockets. After a small pause those would hiss and burn away with a puff of sulfuric and green smoke. The whole process would take around five minuets, a time Val was relatively proud of for body disposal.

Hudson leans over the book to eyeball the symbol he's supposed to draw. His brow creases with concentration. "Yeah, OK, you'll have to hold it up while I'm in there," he says, fishing about in his pockets for the nail polish. Whatever she says, she's the boss, this is indeed better than trying to roll the guy up in a rug... "Right, this is only a little gross," he says in response to her agreeing he should undress. It sounds a bit like he's going to be part of a dead body soup here. He commences pulling his clothes off, studiously avoiding looking at Valrae, and leaves everything piled in a heap on his shoes. The cold prickles his flesh, and he wastes no time in climbing into the dumpster in his boxers. The dumpster is warm. Squatting down beside the dead body, balanced on some nail polish remover crates, Hudson hovers over the dead man's face. Yeah, no idea who this guy is. He squints at Valrae's book and traces the symbol through multiple strokes of the pink nail polish. That done, he straightens, and watches a look of concentration he's never seen before cloud her features. Seeing no objection from her, after all, he backs away from the corpse and balances on the other end of the dumpster, glancing over at where the alley feeds into the street, just in case. He doesn't have to watch long, there's a hissing sound that draws his attention back to the corpse, and then the body begins to sizzle and melt into a black mass. He'd hide his face in his shirt if he were wearing one, instead he holds his face into his shoulder (which doesn't help) for the duration. "Holy," he exhales when the mess seems to have calmed down to a simmer. He fans the air with his free arm. "I guess the water is to rinse this gunk away," he observes, coughing to avoid from outwardly gagging. He balances himself around the lip of the dumpster to come to where the black gunk has congealed. They're lucky nobody besides them uses this alley - the man standing in his boxers on a dumpster in the middle of winter might raise a few questions. "How do we do this, it's got to drain somewhere," muses Hudson, crouching over the corner like he's presiding over its contents. "There's still human bones, too," he notes. "But we can ... that's easy. Val, there's a latch by you, maybe pull it a little that'll create an opening for the water."

Valrae tires to ignore the state of undress Hudson is in... Only peeking a little while he was climbing into the dumpster. She busies herself with her book, her magic, the body. The stench that followed her spell was what finally slammed the lid on her libido. Her nose wrinkled and she was making A Face when he asked her to pull the latch. Book clutched to her chest in her free arm, she knelt down and wiggled the latch until it opened while trying not to breathe through her nose. When she stood, spots bloomed in her vision. Working the kind of magic she'd just preformed was taxing on her dehydrated and exhausted body. The ache in her head had graduated to a pounding war drum. The witch tired to blink away the cloudiness in her vision, her dark eyes glassy with pain, and watch Hudson perform his Alchemy. "I'd like to keep the skull," She said, her voice tight with pain as she pressed the heel of her hand to the bridge of her nose. "So I can find out who he was." She added before he gave her whatever look matched the bunny boiling stalker comments from earlier. "Maybe if I can get a name I can find out who he was connected too. It might lead us to whoever thinks they need to make this kind of statement." Her face was growing as pale as the corpse's had been before her magic had erased it. Valrae was clutching her book so tight her knuckles were turning white. The spots dancing before her weren't going away. Why weren't they clearing? Her head was screaming! She took a few stumbling steps back, rested against the side of the building a ways away from where he was working. Something was wrong. Valrae's grip on her book loosened. It fell to the alley floor with the fluttering of paper and a dull thud. "Hudson I-" Before she managed to finish her sentence her vision went black and her body crumbled limply into the alley floor.

Hudson is likewise gagging a little, but of late has been exposed to all manner of Gross Baby Things and thus weathers it reasonably well. He coughs out the alchemical word for water into his armpit, and watches as the air coalesces around the black goop that had, up until moments ago, been a body. It becomes water, water that slowly leaks out of the dumpster, onto the ground, where it is absorbed, leaving black smudges and residual matter here and there. But mostly spreading it about, so that it doesn't look so obviously like something that was melted into black sludge. Good enough. He'd even managed to keep water and disintegrated body reasonably off of his person. Hudson fishes the skull out and hops down, handing it to Valrae before reaching for his pants. "I'm pretty sure I have a good idea," he says, dressing himself and glancing her way. She's fading fast. Had she been that pale one moment ago? He watches her footing falter. "Hey," he calls out to her, reading the signs, a second too late. She nearly bangs her head on the dumpster as she goes down. He curses, repeatedly. Yanks the rest of his clothes on, and then picks her up like a ragdoll. He kicks the side door open and carries her inside. When she comes to, he's gone, but left a note, it says only: Thanks. Sorry about before. You're not fired.