Lucky for Ford, Stan wasn't really expecting an answer, there. Someone who ain't real can't answer nothing, can they? They can drive, and offer to get him cigarettes, and tell stories, but you know what, he's tired, and his head hurts, and his everything hurts, and if he can forget that he's alone and on the run for just a second, you know what? Fuck it.
But that don't mean he expects this thing that looks like Ford to act like him, too, because he already ain't acting like Ford, Stan's brother is off in some big important school somewhere - or, a school, which is big time enough if you ask Stan - making some big important name for himself, and he's got no reason to talk to Stanley at all just yet.
So this Ford, this whatever is going on here, can answer whatever he wants, he can offer whatever he wants. He can avoid whatever he wants, or forget to answer, or whatever. Stan slumps down in the seat a little more, dealing with the rub of the chair against a few different scrapes so that he don't have to hold himself up so much.
"Whatever's cheap." He laughs a little. "Get me whatever you can scrounge up with the old five fingered discount, you know." It's a joke, see, funny because it's true, Stan wiggles his fingers to help make his point that quick hands and fast fingers ain't only good for picking pockets. "Think I might have to wait on food for a while, though. Remember what I said about uh, about us? My jaw, you know, way back when?"
He sticks out his tongue, or tries to, again making a point and this time with all the cuts across it and the way it's still kind of swollen. Talking like that makes the lisp and slur in his voice even worse but that don't matter, Ford will know what Stan says anyway, he's sure of that. "Think, uh, that. A liquid diet, maybe a slushie or somethin'."
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But that don't mean he expects this thing that looks like Ford to act like him, too, because he already ain't acting like Ford, Stan's brother is off in some big important school somewhere - or, a school, which is big time enough if you ask Stan - making some big important name for himself, and he's got no reason to talk to Stanley at all just yet.
So this Ford, this whatever is going on here, can answer whatever he wants, he can offer whatever he wants. He can avoid whatever he wants, or forget to answer, or whatever. Stan slumps down in the seat a little more, dealing with the rub of the chair against a few different scrapes so that he don't have to hold himself up so much.
"Whatever's cheap." He laughs a little. "Get me whatever you can scrounge up with the old five fingered discount, you know." It's a joke, see, funny because it's true, Stan wiggles his fingers to help make his point that quick hands and fast fingers ain't only good for picking pockets. "Think I might have to wait on food for a while, though. Remember what I said about uh, about us? My jaw, you know, way back when?"
He sticks out his tongue, or tries to, again making a point and this time with all the cuts across it and the way it's still kind of swollen. Talking like that makes the lisp and slur in his voice even worse but that don't matter, Ford will know what Stan says anyway, he's sure of that. "Think, uh, that. A liquid diet, maybe a slushie or somethin'."