Ford raises a brow at Stan's lackluster order, wondering what in the world has come over his brother. That is the smallest, plainest, least appetizing thing he could have possibly ordered - either he's not hungry, or he's trying not to hurt his brother's wallet. Regardless of the reason, Ford isn't going to stand for it; if Stan won't order anything for himself, then Ford will just have to order for him.
...Right after he comes up with an explanation for why he never mentioned his brother in all the time he's lived here.
He shrinks back a bit, fumbling with his glasses as he puts them back on in an effort to stall for time while he thinks. He feels put on the spot, as he typically does at least once in every conversation he has with anyone who isn't family or a close friend, but oddly enough being used to the feeling doesn't make it any less unpleasant.
"Well, ah..." He steals a glance over at Stan, looking for help, when he finds himself being struck by a sudden pang of guilt.
"--To tell you the truth, Susan, I've been a better researcher than a brother, up until now."
He wants to glance to the side and give his brother an apologetic look, but he refrains. That would make it a little too obvious that things between him and Stan are still a little shaky.
"I called him up a few days ago, he decided to drop by the cabin to catch up, and, well, here we are."
He gestures between himself and Stan, smiling weakly. God he hopes that explanation is enough to placate her - he doesn't know what he'll do if he has to keep the conversation going. Maybe a subject change is in order.
"By the way - ignore what he said about the toast. He was kidding." He damn well wasn't, but Ford is quick to nudge Stan's knee with his own under the table to keep him from pointing that out.
"We'll both have a burger and fries. I'll take mine plain, he'll have his with bacon because he's a godless heathen."
He grins, swinging his arm out to lightly smack Stan in the chest with the back of his hand.
no subject
...Right after he comes up with an explanation for why he never mentioned his brother in all the time he's lived here.
He shrinks back a bit, fumbling with his glasses as he puts them back on in an effort to stall for time while he thinks. He feels put on the spot, as he typically does at least once in every conversation he has with anyone who isn't family or a close friend, but oddly enough being used to the feeling doesn't make it any less unpleasant.
"Well, ah..." He steals a glance over at Stan, looking for help, when he finds himself being struck by a sudden pang of guilt.
"--To tell you the truth, Susan, I've been a better researcher than a brother, up until now."
He wants to glance to the side and give his brother an apologetic look, but he refrains. That would make it a little too obvious that things between him and Stan are still a little shaky.
"I called him up a few days ago, he decided to drop by the cabin to catch up, and, well, here we are."
He gestures between himself and Stan, smiling weakly. God he hopes that explanation is enough to placate her - he doesn't know what he'll do if he has to keep the conversation going. Maybe a subject change is in order.
"By the way - ignore what he said about the toast. He was kidding." He damn well wasn't, but Ford is quick to nudge Stan's knee with his own under the table to keep him from pointing that out.
"We'll both have a burger and fries. I'll take mine plain, he'll have his with bacon because he's a godless heathen."
He grins, swinging his arm out to lightly smack Stan in the chest with the back of his hand.