[Even if Fiddleford had voiced those questions, the answer would still be the same. Of course he'll still love him. Ford's waited a long damn time for Fiddleford McGucket to love him back. There's very little that could deter him after nearly fifty years.
He squeezes his eyes shut, just for a moment, relishing this rare moment of closeness outside of their locked door, and when he pulls back, it's with an expression that's almost starry-eyed in its eagerness.]
You—you want to—?
[Of course, he's already fumbling at his side for the Paopu fruit, still wrapped in his handkerchief, not wanting to look away unless he absolutely has to. Somehow, that expression on his face manages to take a couple of decades off.]
no subject
He squeezes his eyes shut, just for a moment, relishing this rare moment of closeness outside of their locked door, and when he pulls back, it's with an expression that's almost starry-eyed in its eagerness.]
You—you want to—?
[Of course, he's already fumbling at his side for the Paopu fruit, still wrapped in his handkerchief, not wanting to look away unless he absolutely has to. Somehow, that expression on his face manages to take a couple of decades off.]