Ford did have another potions question, which was: could you brew something that would undo this one? He wasn't sure he wanted to ask it yet, though. For one thing, it might open the door to other questions, and Ford had only just dodged the last line of questions he couldn't answer. For another, he didn't know whether he needed it, because he didn't know what the spell had done. It seemed like he might want to figure that out first so that he knew whether or not it was something he could live with for a while or whether he really needed it gone. Maybe it would fade out on its own, with time, even if the potion Darrow had given him had made it stronger. Maybe there was no need to get Noble involved in this at all, to brew an antidote that might or might not work (because Ford could only tell him so much about the original potion, not because he doubted Noble would be able to do it) and potentially use up some ingredient Noble couldn't afford to waste.

If they'd been having this conversation in the days immediately following the snowstorm, maybe Ford would have tried to say more, because Noble might have had a better idea of whether an antidote was worth it or not. After dinner, though, Ford was hyper-conscious of what he told his brother, and of how much of his own personal burden he shared with him. Best not to worry him unless it was necessary, and in the meantime it was hardly as though Ford was dying. He could take his time to figure out what to do next.

"Yeah, alright," he agreed with a nod. "Thanks."