Ford's chest tightened slightly. Of course he was a bloody poet. Under normal circumstances meeting someone who was a poet would have been intriguing and Ford would have been keen to know more, but at the moment it felt almost like a jab. It was something that Broadmoor and Tycho had in common, apparently, and Ford didn't write poetry. Even if he tried to pick it up, he was sure he wouldn't be any good. Broadmoor might as well have said the two of them were in an exclusive club and Ford wasn't invited. And the rest was history.
This was unhealthy; he ought to go home. Ford didn't even know why he was feeling so upset, but it couldn't be good to stand here having a conversation with a stranger in this state of mind. He ought to say his goodbyes and try to catch Dodonus at home another time, and next time maybe write first to ensure he'd be home and not in the middle of entertaining other handsome young poets for days on end. Having given himself this very good advice, however, Ford immediately disregarded it and retrieved the drink Broadmoor had poured for him, which was currently an odd shade of dark green. He raised it to his lips and took a sip while he tried to think of how to phrase the story of how he'd met Tycho so that it sounded interesting. It actually was interesting, in Ford's opinion, but he was hypersensitive to the idea that Broadmoor might not think so, and he wanted to avoid the other man's disdain (again, he couldn't have said why). Would Broadmoor dismiss Tycho's show as strange and eccentric? Most people would, which was why Ford hadn't brought it up to his family when he'd started helping with it.
This drink tasted distinctly like grass. Ford nearly choked getting it down, but tried not to let on because choking on a sip of liquor was definitely in the realm of things someone could make fun of him for, and he didn't want to give Broadmoor any excuse to make fun of him. He wanted water but supposed the next best thing was to wait until the drink changed color and try again. "Well, Tycho likes to say I nearly arrested him," Ford said, trying to keep his tone casual. This was the first time he had called Dodonus Tycho out loud, but he certainly wasn't going to default to the more formal reference if Broadmoor was so casual about using the other man's first name. "But it's not quite so dramatic as that."
This was unhealthy; he ought to go home. Ford didn't even know why he was feeling so upset, but it couldn't be good to stand here having a conversation with a stranger in this state of mind. He ought to say his goodbyes and try to catch Dodonus at home another time, and next time maybe write first to ensure he'd be home and not in the middle of entertaining other handsome young poets for days on end. Having given himself this very good advice, however, Ford immediately disregarded it and retrieved the drink Broadmoor had poured for him, which was currently an odd shade of dark green. He raised it to his lips and took a sip while he tried to think of how to phrase the story of how he'd met Tycho so that it sounded interesting. It actually was interesting, in Ford's opinion, but he was hypersensitive to the idea that Broadmoor might not think so, and he wanted to avoid the other man's disdain (again, he couldn't have said why). Would Broadmoor dismiss Tycho's show as strange and eccentric? Most people would, which was why Ford hadn't brought it up to his family when he'd started helping with it.
This drink tasted distinctly like grass. Ford nearly choked getting it down, but tried not to let on because choking on a sip of liquor was definitely in the realm of things someone could make fun of him for, and he didn't want to give Broadmoor any excuse to make fun of him. He wanted water but supposed the next best thing was to wait until the drink changed color and try again. "Well, Tycho likes to say I nearly arrested him," Ford said, trying to keep his tone casual. This was the first time he had called Dodonus Tycho out loud, but he certainly wasn't going to default to the more formal reference if Broadmoor was so casual about using the other man's first name. "But it's not quite so dramatic as that."
Set by Lady!