WEEK 6

[grimgrinningghosts]

[Another week has come and gone, and three more people are dead. Nearly half of the guests are dead in a little over a month. The ghosts are still not reacting, and with Demyx's execution one has to wonder if the ghosts are even here anymore.

In the very least one more floor has been opened up: the trophy room, a shooting gallery, and a bathing room.

... Maybe keep Kiara out of the trophy room.

14 guests remain.]

[ SUNDAY MONDAY TUESDAY WEDNESDAY THURSDAY ]

{OOC: Don't forget to fill out your Week 5 Activity Check!}

Comments

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford shakes his head one more time, and then sits up straight, patting at one of Lefou's hands on his shoulder.]

I certainly hope you're right. I don't want to let any of you down.

[toogoodforhim]

[At the pat to his hand, Lefou grins, wide enough to show the gaps in his teeth.]

He-hey, but no pressure, right?

[He squeezes the muscular shoulders under his hands.]

We're here with you. Just 'cause you've got big shoulders doesn't mean you have to carry everyone all the time.

[sixfingeredstan]

Right. Heh. No pressure.

[That little squeeze, combined with that grin, do get a smile out of him, though. Ford goes ahead and moves his arms to pull Lefou into a tight squeeze of a bear hug. When you're Ford Pines, all hugs are bear hugs.]

Thanks. I needed to hear that, I think.

[toogoodforhim]

[Lefou stiffens a little when he's pulled into a bear hug, but only for a second before he relaxes into it, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing right back.]

Anytime, my friend.

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford lets the hug last as long as he needs it to, which is a good thirty seconds longer than a straight man would likely let it last. When he pulls back, he gives Lefou's cheek a fond pat.]

I'd still like to have words with the man who makes me look like a good person, you know.

[Also maybe fisticuffs.]

[toogoodforhim]

[Lefou is a very tactile person, always reaching and touching and holding, so the length of time that the hug lasts is just right, and he relishes in it for as long as he has it.

The pat to his cheek makes him scrunch up his face like a child, but the sparkle in his eyes fades a little bit when Ford mentions how much he'd like to swap hands with Gaston.]

You're a good man of your own merit. But Gaston is... beyond any words you should have for him.

[He's dead, in short.]

That- the moving portrait was the first time that I'd seen him since the night he-

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford frowns, looking a little uncomfortable.] I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But, listen—I know all too well what it's like to be under the influence of a person like that. To feel like your whole world revolves around them instead of the sun. And I know how much regret it can cause.

[toogoodforhim]

[The breath he draws is shaky, but he still manages to flash a reassuring smile (one that doesn't quite reach all the way to his eyes, that strains a little at the corners under the weight of memory, but).]

He was the only person in the village who knew what I... Well, I mean, that I'm...

...One night, we were young and I was way too drunk, and I told him that I was in love with him. He... left, then, but the next morning he treated me like nothing had happened. And sometimes he would, uh.

[His fingers clench against the black material of his breeches, where his hands have fallen to his thighs.]

The night he died, Maurice, a man who Gaston had- had left for dead in the forest, called on me in front of the whole village to tell them what Gaston had done, but I was- ...I looked Gaston in the eyes and I lied for him.

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford has been getting better at listening, thanks largely to his relationship with Fiddleford, so he just lets Lefou finish talking, and when he's done, his mouth tightens into a thin-lipped smile.]

Love makes fools out of all of us. In your case, a lie. In my case—endangering the entire universe as we know it. Ruining my best friend's life. The important thing is that we learn from our mistakes.

[toogoodforhim]

[That gets him to look up in surprise.]

That's... A hell of an ex-partner.

[sixfingeredstan]

That word choice is far more apt than you know. And despite having been taken in like a fool...I learned. And so, it seems, have you.

[Ford bends forward, exposing the crown of his head to Lefou.]

Go ahead, give me a good whack on the head.

[toogoodforhim]

[Lefou gives him the clearest possible "are you mental" and "I don't want to do this" look that he can muster.

But, hesitantly, he raises a fist and knocks (definitely not a "good whack") on Ford's head.]

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford musters a grin and a 'go on' nod. And when Lefou knocks, he'll notice that besides the fact that it's definitely metal and not bone he's meeting underneath hair and scalp, but there's a definite metallic ring under his knuckles instead of the dull thud of a typical skull.]

[toogoodforhim]

Oh shi-

[He claps his hand over his mouth, staring at the spot he'd just rapped against.]

What happened?

[How in the shit are you alive]

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford looks up and laughs, really laughs, at the look on Lefou's face.]

I protected myself. So he could never harm me again. You might call it armor.

[toogoodforhim]

[Well I mean it's great to see him laughing but also]

Armor!? How are you not dead?!

[sixfingeredstan]

[Ford shrugs.]

I had a friend help me out. She knew what she was doing. And anyway, it works. I have a wicked scar under all this hair, too.

[toogoodforhim]

[He goes pale at the thought. In his time period, metal stayed on the outside of your body.

He reaches out with a hesitant, open palm, toward the back of Ford's head, but hesitates before making contact with the older man's thick hair.]

...It's just- there's- it's metal-

[sixfingeredstan]

Mmhm!

[He's surprisingly chipper. Apparently this is how you cheer him up: baffle someone from the 1700s.]

Pure surgical-grade steel. Keeps anyone or anything from interfering with my head.

[toogoodforhim]

[Sorry Ford since you're so chill with this he's going to run his fingers through that thick hair to try and feel that gnarly scar.]

I'm amazed that you survived...

[sixfingeredstan]

Oh, it was nothing. I went on a bender almost immediately after. One of the best parts of that thirty years, easily.

[It's fine. He reaches up and moves Lefou's fingers to feel the raised ridge of scar tissue that bisects his scalp like an equator.]

[toogoodforhim]

[That... is sick, what the fuck.]

You went on a what now?

[sixfingeredstan]

A bender. It's what you might call a night of drunken debauchery.

[He straightens up, looking like his mood has completely bounced back, because it has. Good job, Lefou, you did it.]

[toogoodforhim]

I mean well honestly when you put it like that if I survived having an armor plate put in my head I'd probably be ready to go out and have a good time too.

[But it's hard to focus on that when Ford is smiling like his whole mood is lifted.]

I'm glad your mood's recovered.

[sixfingeredstan]

That was precisely it.

[He chuckles, shrugs his broad shoulders.]

What can I say? You're good at lifting my spirits.