Ford looks at the ring on the screen like he can't believe it.
He still hates Bill Cipher a lot. He hates what Bill did to him, and what Bill did to his family, and what he tried to do to his world. He remembers what Bill did to Dipper while Dipper was possessed. He remembers waking up in a pool of blood.
But Ford also remembers pushing Fiddleford to exhaustion, pushing for the portal test, driving him to madness. He remembers doing nothing when Stanley was pushed out the door. He remembers all the things he justified to himself when he was building Experiment 618.
It's never too late for anyone to change. Isn't that the point of this whole operation? If Ford really is the one thing Bill Cipher cares about, is it going to get Bill any closer to graduation, and being neutralized as a cosmic threat, to pretend he isn't there?
Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Ford didn't sign up for that. His instincts rebel at the underlying principles. Bill is lying; of course he's lying, he's trying to win, trying to trick. It's a con. This whole conversation has been one. Wouldn't it be hilarious if, after everything Bill's done to Ford, he managed to get Ford to think that maybe he could be better, only to pull the rug out from under him at the last second?
...but if it is, Bill's running this con in a way Ford's never seen. It's very emotional. It's missing tight control.
Ford looks at Bill sideways, darkly.]
I'm not going to go back to chasing you around with a death ray.
[Aaagh. That was real. He'd nearly forgotten about that very disturbing chess set.
Ugh. Nope. Sorry, Bill, screaming chess doesn't sound like a good time. Ford leans in, jabs a finger at the screen.]
Reading, on opposite sides of the library. Silently. With no eye contact.
[He doesn't expect this to be agreed to, either. But he has no idea what compromise is going to look like either, and in the absence of an answer, this has taken on the cadence of bartering.]
[WOW THANKS HE HATES IT. You know, for a semi-omniscient being from before the beginning of the physical universe, you are REALLY not doing a good job of convincing him to give you his time.]
[Here's how Bill has read this situation: he has license to do banter until Ford says 'boo hoo, shut up, I'm not as good at banter as you are.' Which he just did.]
HAHAHA. I'M JUST GIVING YOU A HARD TIME, FORDSY. HE'S ACTUALLY NOT THAT MUCH LIKE YOU BESIDES THE HOBBIES.
[True.]
WHAT ELSE DO YOU LIKE TO DO?
[Correct grammar? Do math by hand? Get angry about minor lore changes in tabletop games? Slowly lose brain elasticity? Shoot brother? Try to build something complicated to solve a simple problem?
...All the sarcastic things he has kindly chosen not to say out loud aside, the actual issue is that most of the things they did casually together thirty years ago are completely tainted.]
[What do you even like to do? Invade people's dreams? Make yourself a giant nuisance? Get your thumb on the pulse of everyone on this ship and manipulate the ones you feel will be useful? Crack jokes no one else thinks are funny? Pour dri--
There it is. That'll work.]
Yes, all right, let's do that.
[It's better than anything else that's been suggested. And Ford could use one, after some of the revelations and decisions that have been made today. It really doesn't matter what time of day this conversation is taking place. It could be 7 AM. Ford is still going to drink. With Bill, if he must. It sure looks like that's what's happening.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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He's serious.
Ford looks at the ring on the screen like he can't believe it.
He still hates Bill Cipher a lot. He hates what Bill did to him, and what Bill did to his family, and what he tried to do to his world. He remembers what Bill did to Dipper while Dipper was possessed. He remembers waking up in a pool of blood.
But Ford also remembers pushing Fiddleford to exhaustion, pushing for the portal test, driving him to madness. He remembers doing nothing when Stanley was pushed out the door. He remembers all the things he justified to himself when he was building Experiment 618.
It's never too late for anyone to change. Isn't that the point of this whole operation? If Ford really is the one thing Bill Cipher cares about, is it going to get Bill any closer to graduation, and being neutralized as a cosmic threat, to pretend he isn't there?
Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh. Ford didn't sign up for that. His instincts rebel at the underlying principles. Bill is lying; of course he's lying, he's trying to win, trying to trick. It's a con. This whole conversation has been one. Wouldn't it be hilarious if, after everything Bill's done to Ford, he managed to get Ford to think that maybe he could be better, only to pull the rug out from under him at the last second?
...but if it is, Bill's running this con in a way Ford's never seen. It's very emotional. It's missing tight control.
Ford looks at Bill sideways, darkly.]
I'm not going to go back to chasing you around with a death ray.
...but I am willing to discuss a compromise.
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SO WHAT'S THAT LOOK LIKE?
...WANNA LOSE TO ME AT CHESS?
MY CHESS SET SCREAMS! I SHOWED YOU, BUT YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE HAVING A NIGHTMARE.
[true. it's supposed to do things other than scream, but bill is very mean to the tiny chess men.]
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Ugh. Nope. Sorry, Bill, screaming chess doesn't sound like a good time. Ford leans in, jabs a finger at the screen.]
Reading, on opposite sides of the library. Silently. With no eye contact.
[He doesn't expect this to be agreed to, either. But he has no idea what compromise is going to look like either, and in the absence of an answer, this has taken on the cadence of bartering.]
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[Ford, he knows the contents of every book before it gets published. Have you ever seen him read a god damn book?]
WE COULD SIT CLOSER TOGETHER.
[Wzr eurv lq d oleudub vlwwlqj 10 bdugv dsduw ehfdxvh wkhb'uh qrw jdb.]
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Don't push your luck.
[There is literally no way that, if it isn't a joke, ""closer"" means anything good. Grq'w pdnh wklv zhlug.]
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[he's just fucking with you now and I'm sorry]
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[Sdghsgf. Asdgflja. Don't bother trying to decode that. It's just Ford's brain making a recordscratch noise.]
What?! No!
[Bhs.
He slams his palm down on the desk, rallying. His eyes are narrowed, his jaw tense.]
This is about finding a way to coexist on the Barge, not--not whatever it is you're referring to.
[Which didn't happen.
Which even if it had happened would be ancient history and not at all relevant to the situation at hand. But it didn't. So it doesn't matter.]
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HAHAHAHA.
HEY, EVERYTHING DESERVES ITS FAIR SHARE OF CONTEXT, THAT'S ALL I'M SAYING. STILL WANNA GO READING?
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[Way to go, you made it weird.]
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Look Upon My Works, Ye Mighty, And Eat Shit]
YOU COULD READ AND I COULD WORK ON A PROJECT ACROSS THE ROOM WITH THE YOUNGER GUY I REPLACED YOU WITH! THEN IT DEFINITELY WOULDN'T BE WEIRD!
[God, leave Quentin out of this, Bill. He deserves better than this hideous tire fire.]
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Hey, I don't have to do this, you know!
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HAHAHA. I'M JUST GIVING YOU A HARD TIME, FORDSY. HE'S ACTUALLY NOT THAT MUCH LIKE YOU BESIDES THE HOBBIES.
[True.]
WHAT ELSE DO YOU LIKE TO DO?
[Correct grammar? Do math by hand? Get angry about minor lore changes in tabletop games? Slowly lose brain elasticity? Shoot brother? Try to build something complicated to solve a simple problem?
...All the sarcastic things he has kindly chosen not to say out loud aside, the actual issue is that most of the things they did casually together thirty years ago are completely tainted.]
...DO YOU WANNA JUST GET A DRINK?
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There it is. That'll work.]
Yes, all right, let's do that.
[It's better than anything else that's been suggested. And Ford could use one, after some of the revelations and decisions that have been made today. It really doesn't matter what time of day this conversation is taking place. It could be 7 AM. Ford is still going to drink. With Bill, if he must. It sure looks like that's what's happening.]
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I'LL UNLOCK IT, THERE SHOULDN'T BE ANYBODY ON STAFF RIGHT NOW.
[true]
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