"Heh. Not exactly, though Tolkien was on the right track."
As they walk, Ford goes on to describe the car-stealing tree-monsters that inhabit the woods, and how they differ from their fictional counterparts. He appreciates Stan's interest, but even more than that, he appreciates just having someone to share this knowledge with. There are so many things he wants to talk about, so many wonderful and terrible and amazing facets of the world that he alone has been privy to.
Now that he thinks about it, he can't imagine anyone he'd like to share these things with more than his brother.
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The walk is long, but made easy by the conversation they share as they make their way out of the bunker and through the woods. By the time they reach town, a few stores have already closed, but thankfully Ford knows a place that's open late on weekends. Ford Turns up his coat collar as they draw close, and smooths down his hair in an effort to hide the ugly red line on the back of his head. He doesn't want to have to answer any questions the wound might provoke should anyone catch sight of it.
"Here we go. Susan's place." He looks sideways at Stan, offering him a faint smile. "The food's not the best, but the service is great. I think you'll like the owner."
He chuckles a little to himself, seemingly at some sort of private joke.
no subject
As they walk, Ford goes on to describe the car-stealing tree-monsters that inhabit the woods, and how they differ from their fictional counterparts. He appreciates Stan's interest, but even more than that, he appreciates just having someone to share this knowledge with. There are so many things he wants to talk about, so many wonderful and terrible and amazing facets of the world that he alone has been privy to.
Now that he thinks about it, he can't imagine anyone he'd like to share these things with more than his brother.
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The walk is long, but made easy by the conversation they share as they make their way out of the bunker and through the woods. By the time they reach town, a few stores have already closed, but thankfully Ford knows a place that's open late on weekends. Ford Turns up his coat collar as they draw close, and smooths down his hair in an effort to hide the ugly red line on the back of his head. He doesn't want to have to answer any questions the wound might provoke should anyone catch sight of it.
"Here we go. Susan's place." He looks sideways at Stan, offering him a faint smile. "The food's not the best, but the service is great. I think you'll like the owner."
He chuckles a little to himself, seemingly at some sort of private joke.
"I know she'll like you."