[Alright fine, fine. Enter: Stan Pines, looking awkward and sweaty, and as if he's going to combust on the spot.
He hasn't given it any thought at all. ...Well. Not any serious thought. He's sometimes given it some late-night thought, either because he's lonely or angry or some horrible combination of the two. It always varies between yelling apologies through the door (because obviously Ford would never open it) or pounding on it demanding to know why Ford let his life get ruined over one stupid mistake, or any number of other possibilities.
None of those are really great to just. Say though. What is the actual Normal thing to do?]
...Uh. Hey! How's it hanging, Sixer?
[This beat is uncomfortable for literally everyone who has to sit in it.]
no subject
[Alright fine, fine. Enter: Stan Pines, looking awkward and sweaty, and as if he's going to combust on the spot.
He hasn't given it any thought at all. ...Well. Not any serious thought. He's sometimes given it some late-night thought, either because he's lonely or angry or some horrible combination of the two. It always varies between yelling apologies through the door (because obviously Ford would never open it) or pounding on it demanding to know why Ford let his life get ruined over one stupid mistake, or any number of other possibilities.
None of those are really great to just. Say though. What is the actual Normal thing to do?]
...Uh. Hey! How's it hanging, Sixer?
[This beat is uncomfortable for literally everyone who has to sit in it.]
It's, um. Been a while! Heh...