Ford chewed his lower lip. Cash might have been saying this because it was the sort of thing you had to say, if someone said they were worried about messing everything up. Cash was also, historically speaking, sometimes a disaster, so maybe he meant that Ford was going to do fine by comparison (which did not necessarily mean he'd be doing well). Even if neither of these were the case, there were a lot of factors here that Cash didn't know, and couldn't. The fact that Ford was in love with someone else, for one. The vast amounts of debt. The crimes he'd been steadily committing for the past year.

So the first remark wasn't as reassuring as it might have been, and Cash's description of the act of sex as decent was hardly a glowing one, either. Sex with Tycho was fantastic — but obviously he could not expect the same here. There was a wide spectrum between fantastic and bleak and Ford really had no way of determining what the most reasonable bar was on which to pin his expectations. Maybe "decent" was the most he could hope for, at the end of the day.

"Can you do all the same things?" he asked. Some of the positions he was used to seemed as though they might be tricky or even impossible, given different angles — but he didn't really know. He hadn't ever been especially well-acquainted with women's anatomy beneath their skirts, so maybe he was filling in the gaps in his knowledge all wrong.

---