Ford laughs, and his posture falls into something more relaxed than it's been since he sat down. The decisive agreement makes him feel better, makes him comfortable, makes him feel like this is the right decision.
Celebrating it without family around doesn't feel right. But taking control of what is and isn't in his cabin does.
"Ah, there's nothing in it worth salvaging," Ford replies. "Just rusty springs and broken wood. But it might be easier to get it over the side if it's in pieces."
Laura might argue that, but there's also a whole ship full of empty cabins
with perfectly good, standard furniture that they can tear up for parts if
they need them. This ... seems to be an instance of Ford being more
sentimental than logical, which means she was probably right in her initial
read of this being as much a symbolic gesture as it is a practical one.
And that's progress for both of them.
"Then I'm happy to help," she says. "We can do that right after breakfast,
if you want."
"It won't take long," Ford promises, picking up his fork and gesturing with it. "Between your claws and my Particle Splitter, we'll have it cut up and turned into space junk in no time."
Now, time to cut up these pancakes and turn them into fuel. Divided into pieces or not, that sectional's a big piece of furniture. Good thing Ford isn't actually getting any older! Who knows when he won't be up to that kind of task anymore?
Ha. Probably not for another ten years at least. Still, he can use the pancakes.
Breakfast goes relatively smoothly besides that, and after they're done,
Laura's perfectly content -- eager, even! -- to follow Ford back to his
cabin so they can make quick work of the sofa.
As soon as the door opens, however, she stops short, brows furrowed, and
sniffs the air just to make sure that her incredibly well-honed senses
aren't deceiving her. They can't be, though, and she holds an arm out in
front of Ford to make sure he doesn't go any further into his own cabin.
"Did you give Bill access to your cabin?" she asks surreptitiously, as
though she could be overheard.
Ah. Right. Her sense of smell. There's no mistaking Bill Cipher's scent, it's unique even for the Barge, and Ford has personal experience with just what it's like to have her olfactory powers.
"Yes," he says. "I let him in myself."
Oh boy. Is this conversation about to happen? It's probably about to happen. It's going to be embarrassing, and personal, but less so than if it came out during a flood, and maybe when it's over he and Bill can stop sneaking around. Maybe. If this goes well.
He's probably not, because she can't hear the telltale static buzz of his
presence, but that scent is everywhere, enough to make her suspect
that even without a particularly concentrated source to pinpoint, he just
might be hiding in a closet or under the couch they're about to toss out,
or something.
She does relax a little, knowing that he isn't here, but the wheels are, in
fact, turning, such as they are, but there's a moment where the thoughts
aren't quite coalescing into questions made of actual words.
Luke had said that he suspected Bill and Ford were up to something, and
Laura had been diligent, but she'd also been busy, what with the
lunch shift and the gym and trying to stay on top of greeting new inmates
before they've been paired. Nothing had seemed out of place, at least not
enough to warrant further investigation. There is no statement she can make
that would have Ford expand on any of this, which means that Laura does
need to find out what questions she needs to ask in order to get answers.
Because she does need answers. She has a responsibility to make sure
that Ford is safe, and that the barge is safe from anything that he might
attempt that would endanger it.
"Well, uh. Mostly, he was -- you see, Laura, I realized some things when I thought Bill might not come back to the Barge, and that he had told me the truth about his plans. I, um. He and I are...seeing each other. Romantically."
That admission hangs in the air for a long, awkward second.
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?"
The knee-jerk how doesn't really surprise Ford, but the way his mouth pulls into a flat line as his cheeks flush betrays that he's a little disappointed to get it from Laura.
Then, she backs off on it, which is good, because Ford has no intention of answering physicality questions. She asks a much more important question, which Ford will definitely answer.
"If I weren't sure," he says, gravely serious, "I wouldn't be doing this. As for how, mostly, it's been by sneaking around in the middle of the night whenever you and Luke aren't likely to check your warden items, and I'd really like to change that."
Laura almost has to laugh, and she almost does, because the sheer
guile of the pair of them trying to actually sneak around when their
wardens are Wolverine and Luke Skywalker would be funnier if
she wasn't one of said wardens -- and if they hadn't actually managed to
get away with it for as long as they probably have, if Luke's earlier
suspicions were, in fact, about this.
But instead she just smiles and sighs, somewhere between fond and
exasperated, like this is somehow typical Ford Pines, and she shakes
her head gently. "If you're sure," she says slowly, "then I ... am sorry
that you felt like you couldn't trust me." That must be on her, on some
level. She could have been more involved, maybe. Kept closer contact with
him, to make sure she could be someone he trusted more. "How did it
happen?"
Which is really what she meant by that first how. She has zero
interest in the mechanics of it all, and is more concerned with how --
emotionally -- they got from 'fuck that guy' to ... well. Probably the same
words with a different inflection.
"...do you really want to know?" he asks. It isn't challenging, or implying that there are horrors in the story that she is better off without -- it's mild, warning her that there is a long story coming, one that probably isn't all that interesting to anyone who isn't a tired old polydactyl or a triangle.
He sets to work pulling the cushions off and stacking them out of the way. As he does this, he starts to narrate.
"I can still hardly believe it myself. It took a long time for things to come to this. It's kind of ironic -- I trusted Bill less than anyone else on this ship! But I turned out to be the one of the few who could." Ford pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and folds it up. "I didn't know it at the time, but Bill Cipher has been interested in me for decades. The way he tells it, he's been flirting without me noticing for years! Apparently, he'd been expecting me to die shortly after the portal accident flung me into the multiverse, and when I didn't, that surprised him. For me it was life and death, a battle for the fate of the multiverse, but for him, it was a game -- and I became his favorite person to play against. Eventually, he realized he didn't want me to die -- though he would have killed me in a heartbeat if he thought I really had a chance of destroying him. He liked me, and he wanted to continue the game! Of course, the fact that I was obsessed with revenge against him helped. He was flattered! No one had cared that much about him before. I woke up every day thinking about how I could end the danger he posed to billions of galaxies, and in a twisted way, that sincere, obsessive hatred got to him."
Ford says all of this like it's completely normal.
"I had no idea, of course. Looking back, I can't believe I missed it!" He laughs.
"And you ... like him?" Laura asks slowly, entirely skeptical about this
whole thing. It sounds an awful lot to her like Bill is telling Ford
stories -- lies that flatter him, and sound entirely logical, to get him to
a point where he won't want to take that obsessive revenge against
Bill anymore. It sounds like Bill's acting solely out of self-preservation,
and if it means he's got to rope an old man into a relationship to do it,
so be it. It sounds ... awfully familiar, to Laura. "What ... do you
like about him? Romantically."
Ford finishes folding the blanket and holds it a moment as he thinks about that.
He's blushing. The energy here is both tired old man and middle schooler with a crush.
"There are a lot of things I like about him," Ford replies. "We make a good team. He has one of the most brilliant scientific minds I've ever encountered! He's very funny, when the punch lines aren't horrifying. But most of all...well, we have a lot of history," he goes on. "It's hard to explain what it feels like when someone you've known for that long doesn't have to be your enemy anymore. When they want to keep you around so much that they stop doing things that they know would drive you away. When they treat you like you can't be replaced."
He glances up and away, and in a more brisk and businesslike tone, adds, "Besides, triangles have always been my favorite shape."
In case, you know, there was any doubt that this was just intellectual attraction and Ford wasn't a mathfucking freak.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
momijizukamori
no subject
Date: 2019-06-18 04:27 pm (UTC)Celebrating it without family around doesn't feel right. But taking control of what is and isn't in his cabin does.
"Ah, there's nothing in it worth salvaging," Ford replies. "Just rusty springs and broken wood. But it might be easier to get it over the side if it's in pieces."
no subject
Date: 2019-06-18 04:37 pm (UTC)Laura might argue that, but there's also a whole ship full of empty cabins with perfectly good, standard furniture that they can tear up for parts if they need them. This ... seems to be an instance of Ford being more sentimental than logical, which means she was probably right in her initial read of this being as much a symbolic gesture as it is a practical one.
And that's progress for both of them.
"Then I'm happy to help," she says. "We can do that right after breakfast, if you want."
no subject
Date: 2019-06-18 06:28 pm (UTC)Now, time to cut up these pancakes and turn them into fuel. Divided into pieces or not, that sectional's a big piece of furniture. Good thing Ford isn't actually getting any older! Who knows when he won't be up to that kind of task anymore?
Ha. Probably not for another ten years at least. Still, he can use the pancakes.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 02:32 am (UTC)Breakfast goes relatively smoothly besides that, and after they're done, Laura's perfectly content -- eager, even! -- to follow Ford back to his cabin so they can make quick work of the sofa.
As soon as the door opens, however, she stops short, brows furrowed, and sniffs the air just to make sure that her incredibly well-honed senses aren't deceiving her. They can't be, though, and she holds an arm out in front of Ford to make sure he doesn't go any further into his own cabin. "Did you give Bill access to your cabin?" she asks surreptitiously, as though she could be overheard.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 02:41 am (UTC)"Yes," he says. "I let him in myself."
Oh boy. Is this conversation about to happen? It's probably about to happen. It's going to be embarrassing, and personal, but less so than if it came out during a flood, and maybe when it's over he and Bill can stop sneaking around. Maybe. If this goes well.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 02:46 am (UTC)"Is he ... here?"
He's probably not, because she can't hear the telltale static buzz of his presence, but that scent is everywhere, enough to make her suspect that even without a particularly concentrated source to pinpoint, he just might be hiding in a closet or under the couch they're about to toss out, or something.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 02:57 am (UTC)The questions are coming, he can see them approach like a train coming down a track. He just has to wait for them to come to him.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 03:03 am (UTC)She does relax a little, knowing that he isn't here, but the wheels are, in fact, turning, such as they are, but there's a moment where the thoughts aren't quite coalescing into questions made of actual words.
Luke had said that he suspected Bill and Ford were up to something, and Laura had been diligent, but she'd also been busy, what with the lunch shift and the gym and trying to stay on top of greeting new inmates before they've been paired. Nothing had seemed out of place, at least not enough to warrant further investigation. There is no statement she can make that would have Ford expand on any of this, which means that Laura does need to find out what questions she needs to ask in order to get answers.
Because she does need answers. She has a responsibility to make sure that Ford is safe, and that the barge is safe from anything that he might attempt that would endanger it.
"What was he doing here?"
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 03:16 am (UTC)"Well, uh. Mostly, he was -- you see, Laura, I realized some things when I thought Bill might not come back to the Barge, and that he had told me the truth about his plans. I, um. He and I are...seeing each other. Romantically."
That admission hangs in the air for a long, awkward second.
"That's why I let him in."
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 03:35 am (UTC)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?"
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 03:54 am (UTC)Then, she backs off on it, which is good, because Ford has no intention of answering physicality questions. She asks a much more important question, which Ford will definitely answer.
"If I weren't sure," he says, gravely serious, "I wouldn't be doing this. As for how, mostly, it's been by sneaking around in the middle of the night whenever you and Luke aren't likely to check your warden items, and I'd really like to change that."
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 04:15 am (UTC)Laura almost has to laugh, and she almost does, because the sheer guile of the pair of them trying to actually sneak around when their wardens are Wolverine and Luke Skywalker would be funnier if she wasn't one of said wardens -- and if they hadn't actually managed to get away with it for as long as they probably have, if Luke's earlier suspicions were, in fact, about this.
But instead she just smiles and sighs, somewhere between fond and exasperated, like this is somehow typical Ford Pines, and she shakes her head gently. "If you're sure," she says slowly, "then I ... am sorry that you felt like you couldn't trust me." That must be on her, on some level. She could have been more involved, maybe. Kept closer contact with him, to make sure she could be someone he trusted more. "How did it happen?"
Which is really what she meant by that first how. She has zero interest in the mechanics of it all, and is more concerned with how -- emotionally -- they got from 'fuck that guy' to ... well. Probably the same words with a different inflection.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 04:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 04:44 am (UTC)"Yes." The affirmative comes quickly, decisively. She wouldn't ask if she didn't want to know. "You can tell me while we're working on the couch."
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 04:22 pm (UTC)He sets to work pulling the cushions off and stacking them out of the way. As he does this, he starts to narrate.
"I can still hardly believe it myself. It took a long time for things to come to this. It's kind of ironic -- I trusted Bill less than anyone else on this ship! But I turned out to be the one of the few who could." Ford pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and folds it up. "I didn't know it at the time, but Bill Cipher has been interested in me for decades. The way he tells it, he's been flirting without me noticing for years! Apparently, he'd been expecting me to die shortly after the portal accident flung me into the multiverse, and when I didn't, that surprised him. For me it was life and death, a battle for the fate of the multiverse, but for him, it was a game -- and I became his favorite person to play against. Eventually, he realized he didn't want me to die -- though he would have killed me in a heartbeat if he thought I really had a chance of destroying him. He liked me, and he wanted to continue the game! Of course, the fact that I was obsessed with revenge against him helped. He was flattered! No one had cared that much about him before. I woke up every day thinking about how I could end the danger he posed to billions of galaxies, and in a twisted way, that sincere, obsessive hatred got to him."
Ford says all of this like it's completely normal.
"I had no idea, of course. Looking back, I can't believe I missed it!" He laughs.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 05:34 pm (UTC)"And you ... like him?" Laura asks slowly, entirely skeptical about this whole thing. It sounds an awful lot to her like Bill is telling Ford stories -- lies that flatter him, and sound entirely logical, to get him to a point where he won't want to take that obsessive revenge against Bill anymore. It sounds like Bill's acting solely out of self-preservation, and if it means he's got to rope an old man into a relationship to do it, so be it. It sounds ... awfully familiar, to Laura. "What ... do you like about him? Romantically."
no subject
Date: 2019-06-21 06:02 pm (UTC)He's blushing. The energy here is both tired old man and middle schooler with a crush.
"There are a lot of things I like about him," Ford replies. "We make a good team. He has one of the most brilliant scientific minds I've ever encountered! He's very funny, when the punch lines aren't horrifying. But most of all...well, we have a lot of history," he goes on. "It's hard to explain what it feels like when someone you've known for that long doesn't have to be your enemy anymore. When they want to keep you around so much that they stop doing things that they know would drive you away. When they treat you like you can't be replaced."
He glances up and away, and in a more brisk and businesslike tone, adds, "Besides, triangles have always been my favorite shape."
In case, you know, there was any doubt that this was just intellectual attraction and Ford wasn't a mathfucking freak.