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 ?? “