foolishmortals | all that glitters is gold [AFTERPARTY]

[It's been a very long, and very upsetting morning, and honestly, Ford is feeling goddamn drained. All the events of the day have hit him like a ton of bricks. And as much as he wants nothing more than to sleep for about a week...well. There's work to do.

After talking it over with Fiddleford, his first mission is hitting the kitchen and scraping together all the eggs, potatoes, and onions he can find. It takes him a good few hours, but eventually he's got five big casserole dishes full of kugel, steaming hot, fresh out of the oven. He stacks up a big pile of plates, forks, and serving utensils and carries it all into the lounge in trips.

Next is the business of the still. Between the two of them, the two Fords manage to get it into the lounge and set it up on a table where it's easy to access. Ford also pilfers a big glass jug of apple juice for the kids and puts it nearby. All the adults are free to partake of a cup of Fiddleford's sugar shine. They'll be needing it, tonight.

Lastly, are the notes. Ford writes them all out in his neat, block lettering, and slips one under each door—pausing at the doors of the deceased with a sad frown each time.

The lounge is quiet while they wait for everyone to arrive, save for the sounds of banjo music....

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mm. For many years. My twin brother and I both.

[It was a weird part of his life. His father had decided the two of them needed to man up. Stanley, of course, had taken to it more quickly, but Ford became a damn good boxer in his own right. And had kept himself in excellent shape ever since.

And his father had, of course, taught both of them how to reset a nose. It's come in handy quite a few times over the years.

Ford's pleased to see that he's still got it, and gives the towel over to Lefou after he's wiped the smear of blood from the heel of his hand.]

Any time. I have twelve doctorate degrees, none of them medical, but that I can always do.

I, uh. I've cracked my own back in place a couple times, and some of the guys I knew back home.

...Bar fights. Gaston always won. By "knock out."

[It's right there in the song.]

But right now I'm still kind of- [He does a loose, floppy gesture with the hand not holding the towel.] ...Floors are hard.

[Ford grimaces.] Sounds rather brutish, if you ask me.

[His expression turns to sympathy, and he nods.]

I would think so. Best to take it easy for awhile, right?

"Such a tall, dark, strong, and handsome brute."

[He sings, mockingly, in a mocking tone.]

I'll be alright. I slept some, I guess while everyone was at the trial.

[That makes Ford snort, picking up his cup of moonshine again.]

I think we all have an ex like that.

[He nods, glad to hear that.]

Just don't go pushing yourself too much, you hear me?

[Lefou smiles and pulls the towel away from his face, makes sure no blood is running, and then cringes in pain as he blows the last of the blood out into the towel.]

I don't know if I can keep that promise, I have a knack for getting into trouble. But I'll try.

[Oof. That was a lot of blood trapped up in there. Ford's seen worse, though, and he's glad he set his nose when he did, instead of putting it off.]

All I ask. We all...need to look out for each other here. And in the past, I've done a very excellent job of only looking out for myself. So I'm trying my damnedest not to do that now.

[It's been accumulating blood for hours while he was resting. He wipes the blood free of his mustache, and then lowers the towel cautiously, as if expecting it to start bleeding spontaneously again.]

I'd say you're doing a spectacular job. We'd be falling apart without you, honestly.

[Ford's eyes go a little owlishly wide behind his glasses, and he can't help but look a little pleased by the sentiment.]

That's...an exaggeration, I'm sure.

[Lefou shakes his head (gently), and looks up at him.]

Not only do you lead us all when we have to have, when someone... dies. But you give us hope. The party last week wouldn't have been nearly as good a time without you.

[Then, with a smile:]

No pressure, though.

[What the fuck.

Ford doesn't know what he did to deserve any of this, good or bad, but he's sure he never did anything to deserve a friend like Lefou, who is always saying nice things to him.]

Well...I'm glad. It's not often people admit to liking having me around.

[You've got to be kidding.]

You're kidding. But why? You're kind, you're funny, you're handsome, and you're smart.

[You're a walking work of art!!]

You should be everyone's favorite guy.

I—that's very kind of you. Really.

[Lefou you are too good for this world. He might be blushing a little.]

I've been...not as kind, in my past. And there are some who find me rather insufferable.

[That's cute... making a man old enough to be his father blush.........]

Well, I admit you'd probably be considered a little... odd back in Villeneuve.

But... [His gaze goes somewhere else, for a second, and shadows over before he looks down, and then back up with a smile.]

You're a good man.

To say the least.

[He barely fits in in his own time, let alone in the 18th century.

Ford lets his gaze drop, and when he replies, he doesn't meet Lefou's eyes again, seeming deep in contemplation.]

...Thank you. Really. Coming from you, that's an honor.

[That, honestly, surprises him.]

Coming from...me?

Yes, you. [Ford reaches over and gives Lefou's shoulder a gentle squeeze.] A good man in your own right.

[He's still running on backup energy, and he stares at the hand on his shoulder before he reaches up and puts his own on top of it.]

I don't think that's quite accurate. But I've seen bad enough, anyway, to know good when I see it.

[Ford huffs a laugh, and shakes his head a little.]

Well, then. I suppose we can both agree to disagree.

all that glitters is gold [AFTERPARTY]

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