(no subject)

[cryptograms]

Who: Ford & Closed logs
What: July Catchall
When: July
Where: Throughout Trench

Comments

( june ) for stan

[cryptograms]

Things have been... awkward with Stan, but they could be worse.

They could always be worse.

But they're still not great. Ford isn't a fan of that fact, but he's also not entirely sure to how to go about fixing it. As much as he loathes to admit to it, he doesn't know Stan right now. Not like he did when they were children, and not like he'd come to know Stan's older self in Deerington and Trench. Even in the case of the latter, the way Ford sees it is that the process of repairing their relationship had happened not because of any particular noteworthy effort on his part, but because Stan had wanted it to be repaired. His own contributions to the process had been, in his mind, minimal.

But he's at least aware that that particular way of thinking isn't helpful. Even if his best efforts still aren't very good, his family deserves them - because their own best efforts are what they always give him. It's with that thought in mind that he not only throws himself into his latest project, he also throws himself into the idea of seeking out Stan first thing when he wakes up on the 15th.

He does not, however, throw himself into the task of thinking of a proper greeting before hand, however. So when he runs into Stan he doesn't open up with anything like, say, 'Happy Birthday'. Instead he jumps right in with:

"Stanley! How are you?"

( late june / early july ) fiddleford, viktor

[cryptograms]

[ Ford's workshop - which is the barn half of the barn-and-greenhouse combination building at the edge of his property - finally reflects his character in earnest. In many ways its indistinguishable from his lab: shelves existing in a state of organized chaos, various tools always within reach, and the work surfaces either laden with the latest project or kept meticulously clear in anticipation of the next project. The only real difference is in the fine details. Ford's lab is all delicate instruments, monitoring equipment, and carefully collected samples from the city and its Sleepers. The workshop is more practically focused: building supplies, electronic parts, soldering irons, Trench's unsettling versions of power drills and table saws.

Most importantly, though, there's more than enough room in the aisles between the shelves and the tables for three grown men to move about and work together without overly disturbing one another. Especially when two of the three grown men present are reedy beanpoles that look like they might disappear if they turn sideways. ]

Thank you both for joining me today. The gun is in bad shape, but I believe the three of us have what it takes to get it working again.

[ They have quite the demanding task ahead of them. The gun looks positively ancient. The chassis is cracked, the sights are snapped off, the focusing lens has shattered, and all of that is just stuff they can see without opening it up or powering it on - and in a rare concession to safety (which is actually a concession to his concerns about placing too much strain on the equally ancient power core) the gun is actually off when Viktor and Fiddleford arrive.

Even so, Ford is in a good mood. He always likes a challenge, especially when completing said challenge will result in owning a death ray. ]

( mid-july ) ozpin ; cw: death, references to gore

[cryptograms]

Ford dies.

Then he wakes up.

It's a confusing thing to have happen to him because, to his understanding, he should be a squid. He hasn't died yet himself but he's seen it plenty of times before. The uncoordinated flailing of a newly formed Sleeper squid, at the location of their death, is the first thing that should have followed what he's pretty sure was his heart exploding.

Of course, even that degree of understanding the situation takes a while to settle in. The first thing he notices is that his body feels weird. Not bad, exactly, but strange, different, and not 'I'm a squid again' different. More like it's his regular body except somehow off. And the more consciousness returns to him the more he realizes that the whole situation is off. The bed sheets feel silky and cool instead of the plainer cotton he prefers in the summer. The pillow is soft. The bed is too big. The ceiling--

Is one he recognizes. He blinks when he recognizes it and gives an actual, physical jerk of surprise when he realizes where he recognizes it from. That jerk turns into a lurch as he jolts upright and shoves back the ostentatious green bed sheets (that, he now realizes, are also recognizes).

What the hell is he doing on Ozpin's room?