@journalsaved || call
if there’s one thing stanford pines does a lot of, it’s thinking. there’s a near constant turning of gears and firing of pistons in his mind, whether he’s piecing together a puzzle or simply lost in thought. these days, out at sea with only his brother and the odd monster for company, he still finds himself caught in long stretches of time spent in quiet contemplation. perhaps it’s habit, perhaps it’s that he’s not used to working with company -- ( perhaps it’s that he’s not used to being around stanley ) -- but the time spent in his own head borders on the excessive. the night air is cool against his cheeks as he stands on the deck of their vessel. above him, the moon hangs high in the sky, doing little to illuminate the inky depths below. within him there’s a tranquility that reflects the calm waters, though it’s just beneath the surface that those thoughts whir away. the sound of FOOTSTEPS pull him to reality, halting his drift into a reverie. he’s not sure how long it’ll be before ford stops tensing at the presence of the other, stops glancing over his shoulder in fear of who his company might be. he’s ALSO not sure how long it’ll be before con- versation finally comes natural to them once again. “ nice night tonight. couldn’t sleep ?? “