"Hello, ma'am, I'm Hudson Ellis - I'm a representative of the charity Man's Best Friend. You may have heard of us?"
"Uh, yeah, I think I might have, actually," the girl looks around his age, maybe a little younger. She flashes him a wide smile as she twirls a strand of her blonde hair around one finger.
"Oh, cool, so you know what it's about," Hudson smiles, reaching for the flap of his bag.
"Don't you help...cats? Or something?"
Hudson purses his lips for a brief second, but immediately returns to his smile, taking out a flyer and handing it to her. "You're close," he tells her, even though she isn't really. "We actually help disabled dogs."
"Oh," she lets out a high pitched laugh that almost grates at Hudson's nerves. "I'm sorry, I must've got them mixed up or something..."
"Easy mistake to make," he assures her, even if though it isn't really. "Anyway, we help disabled dogs, and we have several programmes that you can contribute to - "
"Like sponsoring," the girl taps on the badge pinned to his lapel, and smiles, letting her hand linger on his chest a little too long.
She looks pleased with herself for noticing, and Hudson doesn't want to rain on her parade. "Exactly," he nods, still smiling even though he feels increasingly uncomfortable. "So you can sign up to sponsor one, adopt one, or just donate some money," he punctuates his last suggestion with a shake of the bucket in his right hand - it's already beginning to fill up and it isn't even midday.
"Oh, well, in that case," she fishes into her pocket and brings out a few dollar bills as well as some coins, taking Hudson's hand and dropping the change into it. He resists the urge to jerk it away, instead letting his smile widen. "Thank you so much, miss," he tells her, putting the money into the bucket. "Honestly, your contribution is so useful."
"Is that what you say to all the girls?" Hudson doesn't like the look of the smirk on her face; he subconsciously takes a few steps back and forces a laugh.
"Ha, not really...I just moved here, actually..."
"Oh?" It seems that for every step he takes backwards the girl takes around five forwards. Either way, he doesn't really like their close proximity. "Where are you from, then? Is that a Texas accent I catch?"
"Yep," he lets out another stuttering laugh. "I'm from Dallas."
"Hm, a cowboy."
"I should really - go..."
"Alright, cowboy," she rests a hand on his arm, and Hudson shifts uncomfortably. "But I'd check that bucket of yours. You might find something you didn't count on getting."
He thinks she knows what she's talking about.
"Alright," he tries to smile again, but he's pretty sure it looks more like a grimace. "Thank you again!"
"No problem!"
Once he's halfway down the street, Hudson let's out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding, pausing to glance ruefully down at the bucket in his hand. Sure enough, he can catch sight of a slip of paper among the green bills - closer inspection reveals a series of numbers that Hudson definitely won't be calling scribbled onto it. He marvels at how she even managed to get the number written and on the slip by the time she'd donated.
☒
"Hi, sir, I'm - "
"Are you gay?"
Hudson blinks, taken aback. "I..."
"It's okay if you are," the man tells him. "I mean, actually, it's more than okay - "
"I can't say I am, sir," Hudson is sure that he looks and sounds just as confused as he feels. What has his sexuality got to do with anything?
"Right," the man says, before nodding vigorously. "I mean, it was just, you know, a question...not many straight men - "
"You'd be surprised," he offers.
"Yes," the man hesitates before agreeing, nodding again. "Right. Absolutely. Well, sorry, but I don't think I'm actually very interested in you - I mean, what you have to sell, that is..."
Hudson blinks again. Wait, what?
"Sorry, I..." the guy steps back to close the door. Hudson doesn't even have the presence of mind to protest, still very, very confused.
☒
Hudson Ellis updated his status: "Think I just got rejected by a gay guy for...not being gay."
☒
Hudson is on what is effectively his lunch break, at while it's a relief to not be going round knocking on people's doors, he doesn't actually know what to do or where to go. Georgie's off being a book editor and doing whatever it is book editors do, and without her he's pretty much lost, considering he's in a city he just moved into around four days ago.
A huge city he just moved into a few days ago.
Hudson: anywhere i can go for lunch??
Georgie: somewhere where i can't run into you
Hudson: haha
Hudson: no but seriously
Georgie: i am serious
Georgie: i'm always serious
Georgie: go out and explOOOORE
Georgie: just avoid running into me whilst doing so
☒
Hudson only has twenty minutes left of his break, and he's still struggling to find somewhere to eat, considering the first seven places he came across were all various fast food chains, none of which Hudson really cared to step into.
By now, however, he is seriously considering forgoing healthy food and buying himself a Big Mac, because it's one in the afternoon and all he had for breakfast was an apple.
Hudson sighs, and is turning to retrace his steps back to the nondescript McDonalds branch around a block and a half back, when he catches sight of a sixties-style diner, tucked in between an estate agents' and accounting building.
Thank God, he thinks.
☒
It isn't difficult to fall in love with the diner, especially when its servings are plentiful and the burgers taste fucking good. Hudson has to wolf it down so that he isn't late, and he thinks he can catch the cook smiling with amusement, but that's okay.
(He likes making people smile, anyway.)
"You from around here?" the waitress asks with a little too much interest, handing him the bill.
"Uh, no, actually," he replies, tempted to lie but realising it wouldn't go far, because he's clearly not a native. "I'm from Texas."
The waitress' eyebrows go up a little, but her mouth quirks into a smile. "So what's brought you here?"
Hudson shrugs. "Work. Same as most, I guess."
"Hm," she hums in agreement. "Well, hope you make a habit of comin' here...?"
"Uh, Hudson," he provides.
"Hudson," she repeats thoughtfully. "Hope to see you around. And if you ever need any help getting round the city..."
"Oh," his eyes widen with the realisation of her implication. "Right. Thanks."
He considers mentioning Georgie to put her off, but has a distinct feeling that that would somehow backfire, so refrains from doing so. Instead, he glances at his watch (for lack of anywhere else to glance), grimacing at the time.
"I should probably...go..."
"Right," she nods. "Here's your change, Hudson," she pauses, then adds, "I'm Beth. By the way. Just saying."
Hudson bites back a smile - her awkwardness is endearing. "Thanks, Beth," he says sincerely. "I might take you up on that offer of a tour of the city," he tells her at the door.
He leaves and pretends not to hear the muffled "Yes!" emmitted once he's vacated the building.
☒
Even after he's finished work for the day, Hudson wonders absently if he's giving Beth the wrong idea. He isn't really looking for anything, he considers as he unlocks the door to his apartment. He'd rather not get caught up in something like that, anyway - it's only been, what? Three, four days?Three, he decides, heading straight for the couch and collapsing onto it with a sigh. It's only been three days. He didn't come to New York for girls - he came for the charity and for living, because New York is one of those cities that makes you feel alive; more alive than he did in Dallas, anyway.
He's distracted from his thoughts by the sight of lights flickering on registering in his peripheral vision. Hudson turns slightly and sees his neighbour kick off her high heels before collapsing onto the couch in much the same manner as he had done only a few minutes before. He watches her turn on the television, and shifts in discomfort before averting his eyes and doing the same. It's ridiculous, he thinks that they can just see into each other's apartments. Isn't there some kind of law against that, or something?
Hudon keeps switching through the channels, more focused on resisting the urge to look back through the windows than actually finding something to watch. He decides there and then that he hates floor-to-ceiling windows and they are the most stupid, pointless thing in existence, right up there with juggling and ties and boasting about how good you are at eating spicy food.
I hate everything, he thinks loudly to himself over the SpongeBob Squarepants theme tune (Why is it even on this late in the evening?)
Eventually, he gives in to the temptation, casting what he hopes is a furtive glance at the opposite apartment as he walks to the kitchen area to grab a snack. His own eyes are met by two green ones, and he trips over a stray cardboard box in surprise, catching himself against the kitchen counter just before he becomes very well-acquainted with the floor. He hastens to look back at her.
What should I do? Oh God, what do I do what should I do oh God oh God oh God -
Before he can second-guess himself, he smiles hesitantly, raising one hand in greeting. A few seconds pass, but she doesn't respond in kind - instead, she sends him a glare that he's pretty sure could probably kill him, even through two layers of glass and brick and whatever else, then turns and leaves the room.
I tried, Hudson tells himself miserably. He isn't sure how he's meant to co-exist with a person who is somehow able to hate him without even knowing his name.