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"So," Hugh says, from the doorway, and Alan turns his head slightly to the side in acknowledgement, fingertips trailing over - almost caressing - the cogs of Christopher. "You and Joan."
"Mmnn," Alan agrees, absently.
"It's all the girls in Hut Three can talk about," Hugh says, taking a drag on his cigarette.
Alan's smile is thin, twisting up at a joke Hugh won't understand. "Rather indecorous of them."
"Alan," Hugh says.
"Did you want something?" Alan asks, turning to look at him.
"Let me buy you a drink," Hugh says, tapping his cigarette, jacket dangling from his other hand.
"Will that help?" Alan asks, genuinely curious, and Hugh's smile is slow, disbelieving.
"Christ, Alan," he says, but there's an unfamiliar note beneath his words (out of place, coming from Hugh; in a most peculiar way, it reminds him of Joan, and it takes him an inexcusably long moment to decipher it as affection).
"I don't want a drink," Alan says, in a way that would've irritated Hugh, once. "I'm not thirsty."
"Then we'll find you a girl to dance with," Hugh says, easily.
"I don't want-" Alan breaks off, glances away.
"It's just a dance. You don't have to marry this one," Hugh says, amused, but Alan doesn't smile.
"I don't want," he says, hesitantly, delicately, "that. Either."
He risks a glance back up at Hugh; it's discreet enough to play off as a misunderstanding, vague enough to go unacknowledged, and Hugh studies him for a long moment.
"Right," he says - nothing else, but he knows, he must; he is, after all, probably one of the best cryptanalysts in England. Hugh slings his jacket over his shoulder. "Come on. There's nothing else to do here until morning. I'll buy you a drink," he says, again, "And you can just sip at the frothy bit, if you like."
Alan frowns, but the tease is amiable, almost gentle. He falls in step beside Hugh. "Why are you doing this?"
Hugh tries not to smile - pauses for a moment. "It's what friends do."
"We're not friends," Alan replies.
"Aren't we?" Hugh asks, lightly, and - lost for an answer - Alan pulls the door shut behind them. Rather perplexed, he steals another glance at Hugh, who laughs as he exhales. "You're not like most men, are you, Alan?" he adds, almost rhetorically, but Alan cocks his head to the side.
"No," he agrees (true in so many ways). "No, I'm really not."