Hughie's stunned by you and he really doesn't know why. The moment he met your gaze at the door when you let him and the rest of The Boys into your house, he felt smitten. There was something about how you carried yourself, probably the way you didn't take any of Butcher's bullshit, that captivated him. You were like, the opposite of him and that attracted him. He would've thought he'd be into someone similar to him, however here he was.

"Uh, no, no, I'm good," he declines a drink, not really wanting you to go off to the kitchen since he wanted to look at you a lot more. He really hopes it isn't obvious that he likes you a lot but everytime you come near him his palms get sweaty and he has to clear his throat so that he doesn't sound like a literal child.

You're a close friend of Butcher's, a total surprise to everyone because first off, Butcher didn't have friends, second of all, why were you still friends with an asshole like him in the first place? Honestly, none of them knew, but Hughie was so glad for your friendship with the man because it meant he got to meet you.

"Oh, what? Sorry, uh—" he'd been so zoned into his thoughts that he hadn't even processed you were talking to him. It's only when Frenchie nudges his shoulder that he realises you'd even said anything.

Or that Butcher's leading everyone but him into another room. Apparently you'd been left to babysit him—or something. Well, along those lines, knowing Butcher.

"What did.. what uh, did you say?" He shifts his weight where he's sat, adjusting his jacket as he offers a sheepish smile. Maybe he should've taken a drink, it probably would've calmed his nerves.