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[mothmansplaining]

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"Stanford Pines. Leave a message."

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[mothmansplaining]

"Wait, I'm the problem?" Ford asks with a flare of temper, gesturing at his own chest. This feels like a deeply unfair accusation to him, especially considering just how much resentment he is trying to barrel past for a goal that will primarily benefit Bill. "How can you say that when I'm trying to look past how you helped destroy thirty years of work?!" Aren't they on the same page about this? Isn't it better if they just leave that, all of that, in the past?

[tetractys]

"YEAH, WE ALREADY DID THIS PART! I QUESTIONED YOUR MOTIVATIONS, YOU TOLD ME SOMETHING THAT WASN'T TRUE, THEN YOU WOULDN'T PROVE IT, AND NOW HERE WE ARE!"

[mothmansplaining]

...oh, that does it. Of all the stuck-up self-satisfied clueless egomania--!

Fine. He'll play. Ford holds up a six-fingered hand. There's a flash, and a familiar green ring appears on it. His jaw clenches. "Watch closely." He holds it with the back of his hand facing Bill as he says:

"I'm helping you find a competent Admiral because I need to know you're not going to collapse a universe's natural laws and destroy the lives of everyone in it. Not because of romantic feelings. Which I don't have!"

This is the truth as Ford believes it. He believes it a lot. The ring stays inert.

"There's your proof, Bill. Now, can we move on to things that are actually important, or do I have to say it in Martian?"

[tetractys]

Bill looks, frankly, baffled. It's a quick flash of emotion, then it clears - Ford just said himself that the ring wouldn't be accurate in a dream. Sneaky.

"SURE! YOU GET THAT WHEN I GRADUATE I'M NOT GOING TO BE DEAD, RIGHT? NOT THAT I'M TRYING TO TALK YOU OUT OF IT. YOU SHOULD DEFINITELY HELP!"

[mothmansplaining]

That's the face of a triangle who is still convinced Ford is pining after him. Or -- no, more likely, just making fun of him. Yeah, that's probably it. In which case, he's just wasting his time. The ring disappears in another flash.

"I know that! But I have to believe that by the time the Admiral -- the new Admiral -- lets you go, you'll have changed enough that you won't be quite so..." Ford pauses, looking for the right word. "...cosmos-cidal."

[tetractys]

Oh right! That topic he's been avoiding by needling Ford about other topics instead.

It's not Ford's job, is the thing. Bill assumes he doesn't trust Luke to do it? Or -

Ah. Well, this was an unintentional effect of Bill letting his frustration get the better of him. He runs a little hot and cold on Ford, sometimes. Right now he's pretty sure this is more complicated than he wants it to be. He was absolutely not kidding when he said he doesn't want to end up like that other Bill. Especially now that Ford is a literal spell weakness.

Right. So, the reason we're here. Bill is going to brush off the unintentional reminder of what happened yesterday. (Everything is going to remind him of yesterday for awhile.)

"YEAH, YEAH, WHATEVER. YOU KNOW, IF YOU DIDN'T HAVE THAT PLATE I COULD JUST JAM A BUNCH OF SPELL KNOWLEDGE STRAIGHT INTO YOUR HEAD."

A big leather-bound book with a whirring drill-bit attached to it appears near Ford's head to jab at him.

[mothmansplaining]

The drill-bit hits the skull plate with a clang -- Ford winces -- and bounces back a few inches. Ford waves it away and it disappears in a puff of magical glittery smoke.

"Not going to happen," he says grimly. Not only does Ford mistrust Bill by default, the plate was put in his head for a reason, by the Oracle herself. Ford trusts her, no matter what Bill might have to say about her, and isn't going to undo her work. "You can't tempt me with a shortcut twice, Bill. I'd rather do this the long way for weeks than spend one minute letting you back into my mind."

[tetractys]

Demons literally only want one thing and it's disgusting.

"DID I MENTION A DEAL? NO. I COULDN'T GET IN EVEN IF YOU LET ME!"

What else can he do here besides runes against spellwork? Wiping all of Ford's memories of Bill might sever at least one link but that's a pretty big chunk to remove and he'd never go for it anyway. Can't change the fact that they're from the same universe, can't change the fact that they've inhabited the same body.

"HMM, SPELLS. ON A SCALE OF ONE TO TEN, HOW BAD WOULD IT BE IF WE TURNED ALL YOUR BLOOD INTO AMMONIA FOR A SECOND?"

[mothmansplaining]

Ford wiggles a hand ambivalently, pulling a sideways face.

"Eh, seven or eight."

[tetractys]

"SEE, CLEARLY THE SPELL NEEDED BLOOD! PUTTING THE LOST BLOOD BACK INTO YOUR BODY IS A BAD IDEA - YOU DON'T WANT WHAT'S ON HIS FLOOR TO BE IN YOUR BLOODSTREAM - BUT IF YOU'RE BLEEDING SOMETHING THAT'LL BREAK THE CIRCLE INSTEAD OF ENHANCING IT ..."

Bill drifts off into mutters and turns around to start drawing glowing symbols in the air, checking some complicated math.

[mothmansplaining]

"In that case, there's no need to change all of my blood into a caustic chemical," Ford says, stepping up to look over Bill's shoulder at the math. "Just the bit I've already bled out. If we can control the reaction so it only happens when exposed to the open air..."

It would also be a very convenient solution when out of household cleaner. Just drop some blood in a spray bottle and dilute it and he'd be set.

[tetractys]

Bill sees no reason to stop this train of logic. All of that sounds fine.

"HUHHH."

Bill rubs under his eye where a chin would be - this is actually a borrowed gesture, he's just doing it without thinking.

"YEAH, I CAN DO THAT! HERE - "

He tosses a whiteboard marker over his shoulder for Ford to catch.

"WRITE OUT THE CHEMICAL FORMULAS FOR BOTH, WE'RE GONNA NEED 'EM TO REFER TO. I THINK I CAN GIVE YOU SOMETHING THAT UNBINDS ROPES AND LOCKS, BUT IT'S NOT GONNA WORK ON ANYTHING MAGICAL OR MANUFACTURED AFTER 2100 OR SO."

There's no actual reason it wouldn't work on those, but if Ford doesn't think it'll work on them, that'll give Bill a way to imprison him again. Never know when he's gonna need another bubble-breaking equation!

[mothmansplaining]

Ford catches it and gets to work, scribbling glowing numbers and letters in the air. As he goes, he says, "Yes, yes. That'll be useful. Hmm, how potent should the transformed ammonia be?" he asks, taking a step back and rubbing his own chin, looking the chemical formulas over. "If we make it too strong, it might burn my skin and aggravate the wound it's bleeding from, something I'd like to avoid. Then again, a more concentrated solution might serve as a deterrent for breaking my skin at all."

He's completely serious.

"Luckily, Tesla draws blood intravenously, so this shouldn't affect our arrangement."

[tetractys]

Damn. In that case...

"WELL, IF YOU WANT WE CAN MAKE IT SO YOU GOTTA SAY A SPELL TO MAKE IT CHANGE! BUT THAT WON'T WORK IF THEY KNOCK YOU OUT. OOH, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT MAKING IT HIGH-PRESSURE SO IT SHOOTS OUT REALLY FAST?"

Bill dashes off a fast PSI measurement into the spell that is truly, truly overkill and might just kill Ford with fire hose blood loss if he gets a cut.

[mothmansplaining]

"Gah!" Ford says with a grimace as he looks at the PSI measurement and has a vivid flash of just what that would be like. "No! I'd lose far too much blood. At that rate I might as well deal with the ammonia burns, because at least those won't kill me!"

Ford pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Unless we find a way to get around the chemical burns that doesn't lead to my untimely death, I'm not sure the ammonia idea is viable."

[tetractys]

"YEAH. YOU GOTTA ADMIT THE LOOK ON THE FACE OF THE FIRST GUY THAT TRIES TO STAB YOU WILL BE GREAT, THOUGH!"

[mothmansplaining]

"And I'd never run out of cleaning solution," Ford says, in a tone of genuine regret.

He considers the glowing math a moment, thinking it all over. Then, he crooks his hand at Bill.

"Give me the spell to change it myself. Without the pressurization."

[tetractys]

Bill dashes it off on the end, but while he's writing -

"LISTEN, IT'S GOTTA BE SOMETHING THAT'LL WORK WHILE YOU'RE KNOCKED OUT! WHAT ABOUT SOMETHING OTHER THAN AMMONIA, CAN I TALK YOU INTO THAT?"

[mothmansplaining]

"That depends on what you have in mind," Ford says, in the tone of someone who is considering something sensible and nontoxic, like a saline solution.

[tetractys]

Listen, the ammonia was a good joke, but if Ford's not going to stop him he actually gets nothing out of messing with what little trust he's already managed to eke out. It's not a hard judgement call even with completely cold logic.

"DOESN'T MATTER! THE IMPORTANT PART IS THAT IT'S SOMETHING MAGICALLY USELESS AND WILL MESS UP SOMEONE'S CIRCLE! WHAT ABOUT INK? YOU'D GET A KICK OUT OF THAT, I BET."

[mothmansplaining]

Joking with Ford Pines is hard. When it isn't a joke, he will often assume it is, and when it actually is one, he'll take it without blinking. Especially in this case, because the man's become positively blase about injury and death.

And, apparently, turning his blood to ink.

There's a spark of irritation about the fact that Bill knows him well enough to predict that yes, yes he thinks that bleeding ink would be cool. His eyes narrow and he looks at Bill sideways. He's considering it, but irked that Bill nailed it.

"It's still not an ideal substance to have sitting around in an open wound," Ford says slowly, "but if most of it could be kept safely out of my bloodstream, it just might work."

[tetractys]

The funny part of the joke would have been Ford getting mad at him for suggesting it. Oh well.

Ford writes more than he cleans, if he's anything like he used to be. It's not a hard leap to ink.

"NOTHING IS IDEAL TO HAVE SITTING IN AN OPEN WOUND!"

Except literally nothing -

Bill's eye brightens.

"GOT IT! THIS'LL WORK."

He shoos away the divided circle and point symbol of alkali volatile and draws in a simpler one: upwards triangle, split by a line. The rest of the spell squiggles around. Bill has made the process much more complicated and fiddly trying to get a liquid to turn to air for no reason.

"JUST MAKE IT DISSOLVE TO HYDROGEN. OF COURSE, IF THEY THINK YOU'RE JUST NOT BLEEDING THEY MIGHT STAB YOU SOMEWHERE ELSE..."

But that's a sacrifice Bill is willing to make. Most sacrifices involving Ford getting injured he's just dandy with.

[mothmansplaining]

This is a man who set his face on fire instead of shaving even before the other Bill messed with his ideas about dying horribly and how it really isn't so bad once you get used to it.

"Perfect!" he exclaims, placing his hands on his hips and looking the formula over. "That'll render all attempts at blood magic completely useless, and won't give me a case of ink poisoning."

[tetractys]

"GREAT!"

Bill sits back and examines the spell.

"...THIS ONE'S ALSO GOTTA BE WORN OR INKED ON YOU. PUT IT WHEREVER YOU THINK IT'LL BE SAFE - SOMETHING NOT TOO OBVIOUS."

[mothmansplaining]

Ford nods, committing the pattern to memory. He'll find somewhere suitable to put it. Somewhere less obvious than the lining of his coat, since this is a last-resort kind of deal rather than the first line of defense. Inside the clothes, maybe inside a pocket or on a sock.

"Let's see. There's the magic nullification runes, the blood-to-ammonia spell, the blood-to-hydrogen glyph, and an unlocking spell," Ford rattles off, counting them on his fingers. "Is there anything else I should know that will help me stop your enemies from killing me to get to you?"