What a ridiculous question. Ford wanted to sink into the chair until he was invisible, and was sure that it was obvious. He wanted to be up in his bed, not wearing Macnair's pants. He wanted to bury his head in his pillow and breathe for a second and not think about a ghost having floated in on him or Macnair holding his hand afterwards or the fucking pants, what the hell was he supposed to do about the pants because he didn't have enough good suits to just take one out of rotation indefinitely but he also couldn't imagine how he was going to go about getting the pants back after tonight.
"I'm —" he glanced over at Noble and tried to lie, tried to just say good and hope that his brother didn't press him on it, but it was so obviously, stupidly false that he couldn't bring himself to say it. "— having sort of a time of it tonight," he said, trying to swallow back a lump in his throat.
"I'm —" he glanced over at Noble and tried to lie, tried to just say good and hope that his brother didn't press him on it, but it was so obviously, stupidly false that he couldn't bring himself to say it. "— having sort of a time of it tonight," he said, trying to swallow back a lump in his throat.
Set by Lady!