[Fiddleford goes back to reading Cosmos while Ford sits there making a dingus of himself, and it's only when Ford is shoving the paper at him that he looks up again. He takes it, scans it briefly, and lets out a tired wheeze that's close enough to a laugh to be getting on with. Under the circumstances it's damn near jovial.]
Lord have mercy. I can't believe you. Now I know this is all just because you're tired enough to be hysterical.
[He feels a little wobbly himself. Everything's been so surreal for so long and he keeps teetering on the verge of breaking down and just letting it wash over him. He won't, because it's not in his nature to give up, but sometimes (like now) it becomes very tempting.]
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Lord have mercy. I can't believe you. Now I know this is all just because you're tired enough to be hysterical.
[He feels a little wobbly himself. Everything's been so surreal for so long and he keeps teetering on the verge of breaking down and just letting it wash over him. He won't, because it's not in his nature to give up, but sometimes (like now) it becomes very tempting.]