Ford opens his mouth to respond, but before he can utter a single word, the lights abruptly cut out and they're plunged into complete and total darkness.
His grip on his brother's sleeve tightens, his knuckles turning white.
"Stanley, I am so sorry."
Beyond the quiet thrum of machinery, beyond the occasional drip drip drip of a leaky pipe, a skittering sound can be heard. It seems to come from the far wall, or maybe the ceiling.
"I never should have brought you here, I never should have--"
He never finishes the sentence. Something descends upon them before he can, dropping down upon them from above and knocking them apart despite the iron-grip Ford has--had--on his brother's sleeve.
no subject
His grip on his brother's sleeve tightens, his knuckles turning white.
"Stanley, I am so sorry."
Beyond the quiet thrum of machinery, beyond the occasional drip drip drip of a leaky pipe, a skittering sound can be heard. It seems to come from the far wall, or maybe the ceiling.
"I never should have brought you here, I never should have--"
He never finishes the sentence. Something descends upon them before he can, dropping down upon them from above and knocking them apart despite the iron-grip Ford has--had--on his brother's sleeve.