Ford wouldn't call what happened between himself and Fiddleford a "breakup", exactly. It was more like a catastrophic parting of ways that left them both irrevocably scarred for life. But hey, tomato tomato.

Once Stan goes quiet, it becomes painfully obvious to Ford just how very awkward this whole situation is - once upon a time, the silences between them were pleasant, companionable. But this...this is just uncomfortable. He doesn't know what he ought to say to fill the silence, yet at the same time he knows there's so much that needs to be said. He blames the late hour for his inner conflict - it's too late to be dealing with this shit.

Thankfully, Stan seems to be of similar opinion.

"I make no promises." It was meant to be a joke, a 'you can't tell me what to do, I'm older than you' sort of tease, but it falls flat at the end. Probably because Ford actually means it.

"If you need anything I'll be down the hall, third room on the right."

He sets down his untouched can on the nearby counter, his fingers drumming anxiously against his leg as he looks everywhere but in his brother's direction. He clears his throat again, unsure how to end this conversation when so much still needs to be said.

"Goodnight, Stan." He tries, figuring that's as good of a place to start as any. "I...guess I'll see you in the morning."

And isn't that a strange thought?