It's odd, really, how Stan is somehow more torn up about that head wound than Ford himself is. You'd think it was just a nasty scrape and nothing more, judging by how little it seems to bother him. But then, it's likely the same cold, clinical sense of detachment that got him through the self surgery in the first place that's helping him stay calm now
The pain will ebb. The blood will wash out. The wound will heal. Its scar will fade.
These are the thoughts that are keeping him steady while he checks the urge to feel the scorched seam in the back of his head and make sure it's not leaking.
He very nearly does just that as he tries to fix his hair, his hand straying close enough to feel how warm the skin around the incision is. A little inflammation is to be expected, considering the less-than-stellar conditions in which the surgery was preformed. He'll have to take some antibiotics later, make sure he doesn't get an infection.
It's not until Stanley starts to trip over his words that Ford remembers that, objectively, his head-wound is pretty jarring. Even if he's psyched himself into being nonplussed about the situation, he still has sense enough to know that Stanley does not feel the same - and so he stops fussing with his hair and lets his hand drop back to his side where it can't draw any more attention to the ugliness at the back of his head.
Out of sight, out of mind, right? Right.
Thankfully, Stan recovers from his fumble and moves on to a new subject - one Ford would have preferred to stay away from. He can't help but grimace at the question, his expression twisting slightly as a cocktail of guilt and regret settles heavy in his stomach. He lets out a deep breath, deflates a bit, then bows his head and rubs at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.
"If only."
God, but he wishes he were the only one who knew about all of this. He really does - but no. He had to go and drag Fiddleford into this ugly mess, and by doing so he's ruined the man's mind if not his life.
"There was an incident. Fiddleford... he saw things. Things the human mind isn't equipped to deal with."
He laughs, the sound pained and humorless. He didn't even know it was possible to fuck up quite this badly, that he could somehow ruin someone's life without even trying.
"After what happened, I doubt he'll be at peace with the world until the day he dies. Maybe even longer."
no subject
The pain will ebb. The blood will wash out. The wound will heal. Its scar will fade.
These are the thoughts that are keeping him steady while he checks the urge to feel the scorched seam in the back of his head and make sure it's not leaking.
He very nearly does just that as he tries to fix his hair, his hand straying close enough to feel how warm the skin around the incision is. A little inflammation is to be expected, considering the less-than-stellar conditions in which the surgery was preformed. He'll have to take some antibiotics later, make sure he doesn't get an infection.
It's not until Stanley starts to trip over his words that Ford remembers that, objectively, his head-wound is pretty jarring. Even if he's psyched himself into being nonplussed about the situation, he still has sense enough to know that Stanley does not feel the same - and so he stops fussing with his hair and lets his hand drop back to his side where it can't draw any more attention to the ugliness at the back of his head.
Out of sight, out of mind, right? Right.
Thankfully, Stan recovers from his fumble and moves on to a new subject - one Ford would have preferred to stay away from. He can't help but grimace at the question, his expression twisting slightly as a cocktail of guilt and regret settles heavy in his stomach. He lets out a deep breath, deflates a bit, then bows his head and rubs at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger.
"If only."
God, but he wishes he were the only one who knew about all of this. He really does - but no. He had to go and drag Fiddleford into this ugly mess, and by doing so he's ruined the man's mind if not his life.
"There was an incident. Fiddleford... he saw things. Things the human mind isn't equipped to deal with."
He laughs, the sound pained and humorless. He didn't even know it was possible to fuck up quite this badly, that he could somehow ruin someone's life without even trying.
"After what happened, I doubt he'll be at peace with the world until the day he dies. Maybe even longer."
Ford himself certainly wouldn't be.