Ford turned his attention to his coffee to avoid looking at his brother for a moment. Ford had told Noble things — he had been in the habit of telling him everything — and that had led them to the dinner party, with Noble collapsing on the table. So, sure, he could tell Noble things, except that he couldn't, because he didn't know how Noble was going to process them or how Noble was going to handle them, and it wasn't really fair to Noble to push this stuff off on him anyway. It was Ford's shit. His inheritance.

"Yeah," he said, taking a sip of coffee. "Of course."

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