Ford had been married months now and thus it had been months since he had seen Ford. His homes exterior decor remained bleak - he did not have it in him yet to return it to its usual obnoxiously vibrant glory. He felt like colour had been drained out of everything around him. It did not help that he kept hearing rumours about how happy and in love the new Greengrass couple were, oh they seemed to have had a delightful time on their Sanditon Honeymoon! Miss so and so had seen them and said so. Ugh. He didn't really know what to believe anymore. Not when he'd had long moments of time to really ponder over everything.

Ford had never explained anything clearly, just that he had to marry the woman for the sake of his siblings. Which, fine, okay but what had caused Ford to be in that situation in the first place? Nothing he had been told made sense when looking at it from a more distant view. And nothing negated that his happiness had been sacrificed without even a thought to his own opinion on it. Ford had simply come and declared what was going to be happening and that had been that.

Tycho had been indulging since Fords wedding night. Almost anything but Spritius Sancti. It held too many memories of certain erotic things he had explored with Ford while they had both experimented with the drug. He was drunk now and staring at the vial he'd procured. It had been a while as he knocked it back and found himself floating out of body. He looked down on himself and noted that his mother was right for once that he should perhaps get a hair cut.

Oh, but this brought back memories. Despite himself, he pictured Ford in his bedroom, wondering if Ford ever touched himself to the thought of him. Well, one moment that had been his thoughts and the next he found himself hovering over actual Ford in actual Fords bedroom. "Well, at least you don't share a room with your wife," he muttered aloud before he could help himself.