RP:Whatcha Gonna Do? 'Wine' About It?

Part of the The Dust Up In Cenril Arc

Summary Alvina and Hudson take a relaxing break from parenthood at a local eatery to celebrate the end of moving day. A rival punk mobster reminds Hudson he has some deals to make with the locals organizations before slinking back off to the shadows. Hudson promises to remedy the situation immediately, and that Alvina and their daughters are safe.

Local Eatery

Hudson and Alvina's move to Larket had happened without incident, because they'd hired people to do the actual moving. Money is amazing, really. After the movers had emptied the house, Alvina and Marge only had to carriage over with Marge, the children, the cat, and a backpack filled with the girls' things, that literally had been the extent of the moving they'd done. Hudson had already been on site directing the movers where to put all their furniture and worldly possessions. There's so much space, and the house is clean and freshly renovated; the earthquake had been a blessing in disguise. The girls don't seem to notice the change in scenery. The cat, on the other hand... E.L. makes failed overtures at feline diplomacy when she arrives later, armed with a bottle of champagne and strong opinions about furniture placement. After exclaiming the necessary praises for their new home and going through all the 'logical' and 'simple' improvements that Hudson is supposed to undertake forthwith, she urges the parents to go out for dinner to properly celebrate just the two of them. That's where they are now, at a small dining establishment within walking distance of their home. It's impressive how this particular business seems to have bounced back from the earthquake, or making a go of it. There are some 'under construction' areas of the building, clearly (for example the bathrooms leave a bit to be desired). Hudson is being more forthcoming than usual with Alvina about his work, which is to say he's talking about it at all. "So I told you I bought that nail salon," he's saying, as he spears gnocchi onto his fork. "The whole upstairs is being ripped out and turned into a lab, so I won't have to go all the way to Xalious and stay overnight. That'll be good."

Alvina doesn't look overjoyed to be having this conversation because, just like most things nowadays, it brings up the silent lurking topic of Valrae. Hudson hadn't mentioned talking to her, firing her. Last Alvina knew the witch was still working in Hudson's employ at that same nail salon, where would be doing most of his work. Sure he would be closer to home but he'd also be closer to Valrae and...boyfriend or not, it made Alvina uneasy. "The house is lovely," She remarked, not wanting to go back down the road of fighting. Things had been stable between them. "And the move was so much easier this time, even with the girls. I didn't expect it! I'll be glad to have you home more." She eats whatever basic thing she's ordered with a thin smile, reaching her hand across the table to touch his. "I hope Aria settles down soon...before we left she had jammed herself as far as she could into that small crawl space inside the basement...Are there any other cats in the neighborhood? She seemed legitimately terrified."

About Valrae. Hudson isn't talking about Valrae in large part because one shouldn't talk to one's woman about Valrae if one doesn't have to, and also because that conversation he'd had with her had taken an unpleasant turn and he doesn't know how to navigate it. Also he's in a good mood and honestly not thinking about Valrae, that probably is the prevailing reason he's not mentioning her, although like any self-aware individual with sins such as his, he quickly commences thinking about Valrae when he's met with static from his dinner date. And then he decides to take the hint from Alvina not to talk about work anymore, for the aforementioned Valrae-danger reasons. "'This time,'" he repeats, in a certain tone, lifting his eyebrows. Except there hadn't been a prior time for the two of them, really. Their first move to Larket, he'd handled by himself while she was recovering from being kidnapped and held prisoner by Desparrow. The move after that, well... that had been a solo Alvina operation, conducted in the shadow of the Valrae Incident. Of course this move had been easier, if that was her reference point. He takes her hand in his and squeezes, pretends that what she'd said had not been super awkward. "Cat's gonna cat, she'll get over it," he tells her, popping a forkful of pasta into his mouth and chewing. He pours them both more wine. "How many times do you think they'll wake us up tonight?" This is a terrible game they play sometimes, but he's also asking to gauge her interest in other adult activities. This slanted version of flirting doesn't get a chance to really take off, because a man has seemingly pulled out the empty chair beside Alvina and sat down. He's got dark hair, a face that's forgettable, a white shirt, pleated pants. "Excuse me," says Hudson, confused. "Yes, excuse you," says the man, smiling at Alvina. "Your wife is lovely. It's a pleasure. Just a moment of your time, you two." His attention pivots to Hudson, who has smelled a rat so abruptly there's no concealing it on his face. "Did you get our message that we left?" "No." "Should we leave another?" "No." The man reaches to take a piece of bread, which he dips in the small plate of olive oil. "Am I bothering you?" he says the words with his mouth full. "I think you should go," how quickly Hudson's relaxed demeanor has been eclipsed by the pin pricks of sensation running along his arms. The man, for his part, swallows the bread he's been chewing, looks at Alvina, as if she were the final authority on the matter. "Am I bothering you, sweetheart? On your little date with your gangster man here?"

Alvina would have pointed out that she’d moved everything FROM Larket back to Kelay the last time...at least what they already owned and weren’t renting. Mostly the furniture. It all wouldn’t fit in her tiny place. That’s why they’d gone back to a rustic looking country cabin life for a while. “I’m worried about the sofa getting stained…” The sentence starts like some prissy housewife but blossoms into a warm smile, thinking of sticky fingers and overturned juice cups. Then Hudson takes the opportunity to ask how many times they plan to be woken up this evening. Is he flirting with her, seriously? Just like that, Valrae is tucked away in her little alcove in the back of Alvina’s mind and she’s blushing, covering her mouth her hands. “I don’t suppose it would be fitting for us to wake them up for a change…” Terrible joke, she’s midway through this sentiment when the stranger arrives. The way he’s smiling at Alvina makes her skin crawl, like just his attention has covered her in an impossibly thin layer of slime. Her first reaction would have been to comment on how they were not married but this man was threatening, in attitude and physical presence so she just replies with a meek “Thank you…” before the two men begin their back and forth. Alvina’s wearing a mask of sheer unease, tensely watching every move the stranger makes while trying to recall if she’d ever seen him before. When their attention swivels back in her direction, she looks every bit the frightened mouse that she is but she pipes up when he calls Hudson a gangster. Got it. This is about work, clearly. And you can’t show these people you have any kind of soft underbelly. “You’ve got something just here…” She pantomimes picking her teeth, as he’s gotten a nice sized parsley wrapped around his front canine. There’s an electricity in the air that smells like trouble, if this guy didn’t already look like trouble incarnate. The last thing she wants to do is say something blatantly rude. She settles for the a smartly placed jab at his teeth, with the parsley bit, and gives him a chilling smile. “You are upsetting the chemistry of the whole thing.” Too much? Was she spreading it on a bit thick with that remark? “I think the message has been delivered dear, it might be time for you to run along.” Alvina isn’t smiling anymore. Her lips drop to a thin line, as she stares at him over the rim of her wine glass. The thug gives her an off balanced grin, not bothering to pick at his teeth, even though she’d been honest in telling him there was something there. He reaches out to tug the wine glass out of her hands. She resists, and wine spills down her dress and into her lap. He sets it down roughly on the table top. How it didn’t break it beyond her. He looks back at Hudson, who is bristling with unease and werewolf anxiety. No one could do anything here, in public. This was happening so close to their home...Alvina’s trying to dab wine off her dress with a napkin and a waiter is looking stoically in their direction but not coming over. What in all the hells was going on?

Hudson shakes his head at Alvina, trying to stop her, as she talks to the guy. "Alvina," he tries to get her attention. She doesn't need to say anything. It makes him angry that the man's talking to her at all. She doesn't need to act tough, his heart shatters to watch it, his Alvina, acting tough with this gangster. The glass of wine i seems as if spilled in slow motion. "You're leaving," Hudson gets out of his chair so abruptly it almost tips over. The other man, sneering at the reaction he's provoked, rises too. He folds his napkin, unnecessarily. "Don't talk to her, don't touch her, don't even look at her," says Hudson, the words coming out in an understated growl. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise up as he levels with the guy, who is shorter but being in the profession of menacing people, doesn't appear intimidated. "Yeah, I know how to reach you. Just go." "You better. Pleasure doing business," says the man, with a brisk but oily smile. He claps Hudson on the back with brisk efficiency, takes his hat from where he'd posed it on the table and, with a flourish to pose it back on his head, exits the establishment. The other diners turn back to themselves, murmuring. The tension drains from the room. Hudson sits, finds his napkin from where it had fallen on the floor. He exhales a shaky breath. "Don't..." he waves a hand at her. Don't say anything. He tries to eat some of his gnocchi, they're like the dining dead now. He doesn't know what to say to her. He asks about the stain on her dress, will it be alright, like that's the most notable thing that happened. They don't get dessert. They walk home, he holds her hand. Outside, away from the company of other diners, he says something: "That guy is in organized crime in case you couldn't tell. I'll take care of it, I'm sorry that happened."

Alvina’s face had frozen mid question when Hudson stopped her. She withdrew, dabbing the pink stain and hoping it would come out. The waiter tried to bring another glass of wine to replace it but Hudson had quickly asked for the check. Her fork pushes around the basic food she’d ordered, something in red sauce, it’s nothing fancy but all she can imagine is that it’s blood. That the mobster had murdered someone, and left the body on display on the tabletop. They don’t get it boxed up, wine had splashed in to make it impossibly damp. Hudson takes her hand and holds it while they walk but not in a cute, date sort of way. In the ‘I’m-making-sure-no-one-can-touch-you’ way, like that sleazy bag might be lurking outside the restaurant to deliver the rest of his message. When he offers this, Alvina nods, unsure of what to say. Of course she could tell he was linked to something Hudson did for a living. “Are things getting worse?” She asked, wondering if he was digging too deep, unsatisfied with the amount of money the ‘small’ operation had afforded. He had to buy a salon, to cover for the money they had. And a strip club. “Are you guys expanding or…” She doesn’t want to ask but they’d never been threatened before. It makes her think of the guy who’d sent them dessert a while back...was he linked to this somehow? An anxious itch snakes across her skin, not a werewolf rage sort of thing but the kind of unease you get from watching a carriage crash. Morbidly wondering if anyone was hurt. It was all too close to home; literally and figuratively. “Do they know where we live? Hudson…” Breathlessly, she stops walking, panic soaking into her face. “We -just- moved here, if they know where the girls are...What do they even want….” A thousand questions from a wife that didn’t understand. Not even a wife, she reminded herself. And after the way Hudson had reacted back there, whoever this guy was knew she was a weak link in his chain. He’d seen her face, knew her from other women. He could surface at any time, and it was Desparrow or Cayl or Vuryal all over again...locked in a small room, where who knows what might await her. All because Hudson was making a lot of money. She starts to breath heavily, panicked and shaking. Her eyes are searching his face for reassurance. Tell me you’re stronger / faster / richer than these bullies. Tell me I don’t have to worry about our family.

"Baby, right now it's little bumpy is all," says Hudson quickly, his heart sags to tell it to her. "I don't want you to worry, OK?" It's not right to expand in detail and lay all his troubles at her feet, and it's also not right to put her in harm's way so he'd better clean this one up fast. Leaving a decomposing body in the nail salon dumpster is one thing, that's just business maybe, like a horrific calling card, but it's outrageous to him that these guys would bother him in a personal sense. It's not right. Wives and the like should be off limits, them's the rules. These people are animals, maybe, ... thinks a guy who turns into a wolf sometimes. He squeezes her hand, and she stops walking abruptly. He can tell she's seized by panic, she's making anxious sounds about their home and the girls, and he puts his arms around her, like he's the bulwark between this garbage and the safety of their family. "Stop. Babe. Stop," he tells her, before she works herself up into a froth about this. He does believe that he'll handle the situation, he and these guys will come to an arrangement that suits everyone. To say that he's highly motivated now is putting it lightly. It'll cost him and his partners a little money but it's a necessary evil/the cost of doing business. "They just want a deal and are making some noise about it, we're going to work it out and then, perversely," he exhales in frustration, "these people will be our best friends." She is trembling. He holds a kiss to her brow, frowns before turning his face inward, to look at her. Of course she's going to pieces now, she'd been like iron inside the restaurant, that hadn't been real, it's all catching up with her now. He skates a hand along her back. "I know that was scary, it's alright. I'm not going to let anything happen to you or the girls, I promise, baby, OK?" They can't walk back in like this or his mum will have questions. "Not anything, OK?" he repeats. He makes a mental note to have a witch see about a magical security system for the house. "I love you," he reminds her. "Say something, babe, so I know you're hearing me."

Alvina didn’t want to think about any of that, but it’s a panic attack that’s snuck up just as randomly as this man in that restaurant. Hudson’s reassurance of making these guys ‘his best friends’ is anything but. They are clearly too aggressive, too flippant and arrogant. She disliked that the business required a certain level of bravado and shows of force. This wasn’t even their first message? “How can I not worry?” She asks him, her heart thrashing against her chest like a frightened rabbit in a cage that was too small. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Repeated apologies for things she couldn’t control; her trembling, her worry, her blatant fear. The wine stain cuts across her stomach, a noir shadow to punctuate the discussion. He could have just as easily snuck a blade through her skin, spilling blood to stain the dress in place of wine. Perhaps she’s overreacting but...she’ll throw this dress out when she gets home. Never wants to see it again and be reminded of that man’s distasteful grin. “Okay, Okay…” She nods, still trying to get a handle on the adrenaline that’s throbbing through her head. The need to believe him outweighs the truth; that she doesn’t think Hudson is a one man army. Werewolf or not. These guys don’t play clean games, they foul and sneak and break people’s legs and…”I love you too…” Her voice breaks, a hiccup of concern for him now. What would she do if he left for work one day and never came back? Twenty minutes ago, she’d just assume he’d finally run off with Valrae to leave her alone with the twins but now...what if he became a message to someone else? “I hear you, I do.” Alvina has to consciously work against repeating herself again. She wants to say things, anything but it’s difficult. Her brain is flushed with all sorts of scenarios and fears. This was the closest she’d even come to the dark part of his world, and now she wonders if he’d been hiding it all to make it seem easy or less dangerous. She knew she’d tricked herself into believing it would never be something that would threaten their lives...but here it was...in pleated pants and a tasteless hat. Spilling wine on her dress and eating their breadsticks. “Hudson…” She sighs, drawing him close against her. There was no reason to say it again; that she was scared, that she trusted him, that she loved him.

As Alvina burrows against him, Hudson likewise wraps his arms her. He's got nothing more to say. Despite this outward performance of reassurance, his mind has taken a dark turn. He's thinking about the guy who'd interrupted their dinner. Yeah, maybe they have to make a deal with those guys. But between then and now, the only thing that he's looking forward to is bouncing that guy's sneering face off the ground. How dare he talk to Alvina... Hudson's blood begins to heat again. Reign it in. He gives it a few seconds, then he exhales roughly, pulls back, looks into Alvina's face. He runs a thumb over her cheeks, then reaches to fold her hand into his once more. "I'm gonna take care of it," he says, meeting her gaze. He considers her. "You good? Shall we go in and smooch our kiddos?"

Alvina sniffles and nods. Hudson knew people and held sway. This dude didn't matter. He wasn't anything but a bully, using scare tactics to get what he wanted. Hudson was bigger and better. End of story. In his arms, she believed that wholeheartedly and is beyond grateful that she didn't start crying. "Luna hates smooches," she reminded him, with a forced chuckle. "And Harper only wants smooches from you." The dinner seems chaotic in hindsight, but all that fades away once they walk inside to their daughters, who know nothing but their parents and their love.