In all his extensive conversations with ghosts, Ford had never encountered one that he would have said was flirting, and the notion made his head spin a bit. Given that only a few hours prior he'd had to have a conversation about where people were and weren't allowed to wander around naked with a particularly grumpy spirit, he couldn't help but ponder the... logistics of relationships after death, which wasn't something he really wanted to be thinking about. He cleared his throat as though by doing this he could also clear his head of any hypothetical images that lingered there. Best not to touch on the subject of Williams again, he decided, unless the man chose to make an appearance. Ford certainly didn't want to spend any more time thinking about ghosts wooing each other in the afterlife.
"Oh, uhm — sure," he agreed, raising an eyebrow at the choice of dining room furniture but deciding that this, like the housecoat, was better left unaddressed. He sat in one of the chairs and briefly wondered if he was supposed to sit up straight, like he usually would for dinner, or sit back like this type of chair seemed to require. He glanced at Dodonus for some kind of cue. It was strange that he was the one who felt so uncomfortable in this situation, when Dodonus was the one who wasn't following any of the rules for proper societal etiquette. Open front doors, housecoats, armchairs. Ford was worried about what dinner would bring. Should he even expect a fork, at this rate? Maybe he'd find a pair of chopsticks instead and spend the entire meal trying to figure out how to actually eat with nothing except two sticks.
(On the other hand, this was proving very distracting from his thoughts. He could hardly relive his afternoon conversation with Macnair on repeat when he was too preoccupied trying to figure out how to sit.)
Ford wanted a drink but thought it would be rude to ask for one, and he was too nervous to ask what they were meant to eat for dinner. "This is a lovely house," he said instead (it was a strange house, was what it was — rainbow roof tiles and garden gnomes, and he'd only seen two rooms of it so far, but Ford was too polite to say that). "Do you live here alone?"
"Oh, uhm — sure," he agreed, raising an eyebrow at the choice of dining room furniture but deciding that this, like the housecoat, was better left unaddressed. He sat in one of the chairs and briefly wondered if he was supposed to sit up straight, like he usually would for dinner, or sit back like this type of chair seemed to require. He glanced at Dodonus for some kind of cue. It was strange that he was the one who felt so uncomfortable in this situation, when Dodonus was the one who wasn't following any of the rules for proper societal etiquette. Open front doors, housecoats, armchairs. Ford was worried about what dinner would bring. Should he even expect a fork, at this rate? Maybe he'd find a pair of chopsticks instead and spend the entire meal trying to figure out how to actually eat with nothing except two sticks.
(On the other hand, this was proving very distracting from his thoughts. He could hardly relive his afternoon conversation with Macnair on repeat when he was too preoccupied trying to figure out how to sit.)
Ford wanted a drink but thought it would be rude to ask for one, and he was too nervous to ask what they were meant to eat for dinner. "This is a lovely house," he said instead (it was a strange house, was what it was — rainbow roof tiles and garden gnomes, and he'd only seen two rooms of it so far, but Ford was too polite to say that). "Do you live here alone?"
Set by Lady!