all that glitters is gold [AFTERPARTY]

[sixfingeredstan]

[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....

Comments

[sixfingeredstan]

[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.

[toogoodforhim]

[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.

[sixfingeredstan]

[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.

[toogoodforhim]

[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.

[sixfingeredstan]

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.

[toogoodforhim]

[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.

[sixfingeredstan]

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.

[toogoodforhim]

[That, honestly, surprises him.]

Coming from...me?

[sixfingeredstan]

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

[toogoodforhim]

[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.

[sixfingeredstan]

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

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