Speaking of familiar looks - Stan's waffling at the door makes Ford roll his eyes a bit, though the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth reveals the gesture for the show of fondness that it really is.
"Yes, Stanley, I'll call." He says flatly as he works on shucking off his tie. "Now, go on: scoot."
If Ford realizes how much he just made himself sound like their mother, he doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy focusing on the surprisingly challenging task of peeling off clothes that are caked on with dry blood, and stick uncomfortably to his skin. It probably takes him a little longer than it really should to finally get undressed and hop in the shower, but he hopes Stan doesn't fault him for the wait. Especially when he increases the wait tenfold by spending a good 30 minutes just standing under the running water with his eyes shut, because a long shower an absolutely horrid night is damn near a religious experience.
That, and if he keeps his eyes shut he won't have to watch the water turn the color of rust and spiral down the drain, which is nice.
After a bit, Ford finally gets to the actual cleaning part of taking a shower, and shortly after that Stan will be able to hear the water stopping, followed by the tell-tale sound of Ford trying in vain to dry off his untamable mess of hair. Even with a chunk of it shaved off, it still has far too much volume and retains too much water than it has any right to.
It's about at this time that Ford realizes he walked in here without any clothes, and that putting back on the ruined ones he just took off would entirely defeat the purpose of taking a shower. Damn. He was hoping he wouldn't have to ask Stan for help after all, but it looks like even that's asking too much.
"--Hey, Stanley? Do me a favor and grab me a shirt, will you?"
no subject
"Yes, Stanley, I'll call." He says flatly as he works on shucking off his tie. "Now, go on: scoot."
If Ford realizes how much he just made himself sound like their mother, he doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy focusing on the surprisingly challenging task of peeling off clothes that are caked on with dry blood, and stick uncomfortably to his skin. It probably takes him a little longer than it really should to finally get undressed and hop in the shower, but he hopes Stan doesn't fault him for the wait. Especially when he increases the wait tenfold by spending a good 30 minutes just standing under the running water with his eyes shut, because a long shower an absolutely horrid night is damn near a religious experience.
That, and if he keeps his eyes shut he won't have to watch the water turn the color of rust and spiral down the drain, which is nice.
After a bit, Ford finally gets to the actual cleaning part of taking a shower, and shortly after that Stan will be able to hear the water stopping, followed by the tell-tale sound of Ford trying in vain to dry off his untamable mess of hair. Even with a chunk of it shaved off, it still has far too much volume and retains too much water than it has any right to.
It's about at this time that Ford realizes he walked in here without any clothes, and that putting back on the ruined ones he just took off would entirely defeat the purpose of taking a shower. Damn. He was hoping he wouldn't have to ask Stan for help after all, but it looks like even that's asking too much.
"--Hey, Stanley? Do me a favor and grab me a shirt, will you?"