Date: 2019-06-21 03:35 am (UTC)
not_your_weapon: (wtf)

Laura, try as she might, cannot wrap her head around that statement, and she tilts her head to one side, then the other, as though a change in the angle of her vision might grant her some kind of insight as to what, exactly, Ford means by that.

But he's nothing if not plain in what he's saying. There's no metaphor to be had.

Ford and Bill are seeing each other. Romantically.

She squints. And she blinks. And she walks to the other side of the room, and turns around to look at Ford again, utterly perplexed by this entire development. And then, finally, one word escapes her mouth, nearly of its own volition: "How?"

Wait. She holds up a hand, the other pinching the bridge of her nose. "No. No, don't tell me -- not physically. I don't want to know." She can guess. The physicality, if it even figures into this, isn't what's bothering her. People are people are people. "I don't even --" Care that he's a triangle. "It's Bill. Are you ... sure?"

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