[Fiddleford is about to say sure, and when you're scared of going up the stairs you find a way to climb through the window. It's what he did. He knows all about being scared, and in his opinion the best way to stop being scared is to figure out a way to work around it, not sit there feeling sorry for yourself. This has definitely always worked out great for him and not caused anyone any problems ever.
He opens his mouth and then Qrow says drink his blood and it just sort of hangs open for a second before shutting again. He is so tempted to stop and just rest his forehead against the wall. What is it with Ford Pines and blood. It's not a Trench thing, he's just always been this way. Before he can say that Ford would let anyone drink his blood if he thought he could get an interesting scientific anecdote out of it, Qrow follows that up with possibly the only sentence that could be more alarming.
It's not the implication that he's interested in men, to be clear. He is still exceptionally squirrely about it, but he's no longer in America in 1979 and people seem to think differently here. He knows the implication is not a threat even if his deeper gut response is still 'oh no, is it obvious, how did he know'. It's the implication that he'd be interested in Ford.]
Sweet gravy, no. I'd like to live past forty-five, thank you very much, and I sure wouldn't with all the heart attacks he'd give me. Naw, he's my best friend. Has been since college.
[He doesn't say 'just' or 'that's all' because, well, if he counts you as a best friend it's not just anything. When he says something like that he really means it.]
And I'm pretty sure I was his only friend right up to -- right --
[Right up to what? He doesn't know. It was bad. They must have fought, but they'd fought before and it never changed anything. But it was bad. For a second it looks like he simply bluescreens, and then he blinks rapidly and shakes his head and continues. It's fine. It's fine. He forgot it for a reason.]
Right up to a little bit before I showed up here. But I'd never -- I mean, he's not a kid and a house in the suburbs sort of guy, and that's what...
cw: internalized homophobia because 1970s america, unreality/lost time
He opens his mouth and then Qrow says drink his blood and it just sort of hangs open for a second before shutting again. He is so tempted to stop and just rest his forehead against the wall. What is it with Ford Pines and blood. It's not a Trench thing, he's just always been this way. Before he can say that Ford would let anyone drink his blood if he thought he could get an interesting scientific anecdote out of it, Qrow follows that up with possibly the only sentence that could be more alarming.
It's not the implication that he's interested in men, to be clear. He is still exceptionally squirrely about it, but he's no longer in America in 1979 and people seem to think differently here. He knows the implication is not a threat even if his deeper gut response is still 'oh no, is it obvious, how did he know'. It's the implication that he'd be interested in Ford.]
Sweet gravy, no. I'd like to live past forty-five, thank you very much, and I sure wouldn't with all the heart attacks he'd give me. Naw, he's my best friend. Has been since college.
[He doesn't say 'just' or 'that's all' because, well, if he counts you as a best friend it's not just anything. When he says something like that he really means it.]
And I'm pretty sure I was his only friend right up to -- right --
[Right up to what? He doesn't know. It was bad. They must have fought, but they'd fought before and it never changed anything. But it was bad. For a second it looks like he simply bluescreens, and then he blinks rapidly and shakes his head and continues. It's fine. It's fine. He forgot it for a reason.]
Right up to a little bit before I showed up here. But I'd never -- I mean, he's not a kid and a house in the suburbs sort of guy, and that's what...
[What he'd had, before he threw it away.]
... What I'd want.