closed starter for @unfortunatescn.
Anger. It’s the perfect thing to shield his sudden shame. Not only that, but he really was angry. Spiked coke. Spiked fucking coke? He was screwed. People were dead, one of his closest friends in the entire world was dead. He hasn’t been patched in for that long and he’s already experiencing the backlash of being in a club like this. Ford knew it would come, but not like this. Maybe he had been selfish or someone overly cynical by believing he could somehow get into these things and come out unscathed. The sight of Andrew Thane only makes his seething rage increase. Just when he’s left to come down from this sudden anger, he’s being thrown down that dark void once again. By raw impulse, he speaks. “Oh look at this, a fuckin’ Thane has graced us with his presence.” He spews bitterly, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it once it hits the pavement. He was once close with each of them, enough to almost Prospect for them. But, to the world’s dismay, it never happened. The blond lights another cigarette, looking towards Andy. This was a recipe for disaster. But Ford didn’t give a shit. The Primordial’s could have all gone to Hell at this point and Ford wouldn’t give a single shit. “What do I owe this honor, hm? That pretty little wife of yours decide to divorce your ass again and you on another fuckin’ rampage? I heard prison’s a real riot the second time around, brother.” He doesn’t really mean it. Not entirely, at least. It’s the sort of half-assed mockery that stems from areas of fleeting pettiness.