Ford gets his brother into the car, shuts the door for him, tries not to let out a throat-tearing scream the minute he's got some semblance of privacy because dear fucking God. He's heard of being up shit creek without a paddle, but this is leagues above any hopeless situation he's ever faced before. He's never felt this lost, this helpless. It would help, maybe, if he knew what the fuck to do, but as it stands he's got nothing - no plan, no clue, no options.
All he can do is just - just drive and hope a revelation dawns on him before Stan bleeds out or OD's or decides to make a run for it.
He jogs to the other side of the car, throwing his door open with an unnecessary amount of force as he hurries inside. He leans over, hastily buckling Stan's seat-belt for him before bothering to do his own - it's part instinct, part habit, and part need to distract Stan while he locks the passenger door, just in case.
Once his back is to the seat once more, Ford fumbles with his keys, cursing under his breath until the ignition switches and the engine roars to life. He throws his elbow over the back of his seat as he looks out the rear window, despite knowing damn well there's no one behind them for him to accidently run over. It's a habit, one he curses because it takes up 5 precious seconds of time he could be using to get Stan help.
He's quick to pull out, his tires kicking up clouds of gravel as he makes a three-point turn out of the lot and peels out onto the street. Normally he would be scandalized with himself if he looked down and saw he was going 60 in a 45, but in this one particular instance, he really could not give less of a damn about breaking the law.
His eyes dart from the road to Stan, back and forth and forth and back, unable to stay on one too long before switching to the other.
"We - we'll find your car later, Stan, okay? We're gonna get you patched up first, get you help like I promised, remember? We'll get your car back when you're in better shape, that sound like a plan?"
He doesn't know what he's saying - he has no idea where Stan's car is, who they need to get it back from, or why it is they're doing something to it to begin with, and he's not sure he wants to have the blanks filled in. All he does know is that Stan needs some reassurance right now - he needs reasons to stay calm and be easy, and if comforting lies keep him relatively composed, then that's what Ford's going to give him.
no subject
All he can do is just - just drive and hope a revelation dawns on him before Stan bleeds out or OD's or decides to make a run for it.
He jogs to the other side of the car, throwing his door open with an unnecessary amount of force as he hurries inside. He leans over, hastily buckling Stan's seat-belt for him before bothering to do his own - it's part instinct, part habit, and part need to distract Stan while he locks the passenger door, just in case.
Once his back is to the seat once more, Ford fumbles with his keys, cursing under his breath until the ignition switches and the engine roars to life. He throws his elbow over the back of his seat as he looks out the rear window, despite knowing damn well there's no one behind them for him to accidently run over. It's a habit, one he curses because it takes up 5 precious seconds of time he could be using to get Stan help.
He's quick to pull out, his tires kicking up clouds of gravel as he makes a three-point turn out of the lot and peels out onto the street. Normally he would be scandalized with himself if he looked down and saw he was going 60 in a 45, but in this one particular instance, he really could not give less of a damn about breaking the law.
His eyes dart from the road to Stan, back and forth and forth and back, unable to stay on one too long before switching to the other.
"We - we'll find your car later, Stan, okay? We're gonna get you patched up first, get you help like I promised, remember? We'll get your car back when you're in better shape, that sound like a plan?"
He doesn't know what he's saying - he has no idea where Stan's car is, who they need to get it back from, or why it is they're doing something to it to begin with, and he's not sure he wants to have the blanks filled in. All he does know is that Stan needs some reassurance right now - he needs reasons to stay calm and be easy, and if comforting lies keep him relatively composed, then that's what Ford's going to give him.