[Stan is hoisting the bag up on his shoulder when Ford tries to halt him. Just what? He doesn't have time to "just" whatever, does he? But he still gives pause, in case it's some important tip.
And it is! ...But, not one he was expecting.]
Fiddleford McGucket?
[It's hard to blame him for sounding a little incredulous. What the hell kind of name is that? It just conjures images of banjos and racoons, and...
...wait.]
...Old Man McGucket?
[He frowns, and glances down and to the side while the pieces try to arrange themselves correctly. His lucidity is clawing its way back into this memory, bit by bit.]
no subject
And it is! ...But, not one he was expecting.]
Fiddleford McGucket?
[It's hard to blame him for sounding a little incredulous. What the hell kind of name is that? It just conjures images of banjos and racoons, and...
...wait.]
...Old Man McGucket?
[He frowns, and glances down and to the side while the pieces try to arrange themselves correctly. His lucidity is clawing its way back into this memory, bit by bit.]
...It didn't happen like this, did it.
[It's not a question.]