Sleepy mornings on the Stan O' War II were everything they'd dreamed. Layers, foggy breath, strong coffee. It was easy to wake up slowly together in silence, listening to the water and the far crying of gulls.

This particular morning, Ford knew the silence was a different kind the moment he saw his brother gazing out at the sea.

"Stanley?" Ford asked, sitting down.

Stan blinked and looked at him. Ford held his breath, silently praying this wasn't another episode. He glanced toward the cabin, wondering if he should just start carrying the mini "memory book" Mabel had made with him at all times. Though it had been some time since Stan had needed it.

"What, Ford? Quit starin'." Stan punched his brother's arm lightly.

Stanford's mouth went into a thin line as he tried not to implode from relief. Not an episode. Good. But he still seemed rather pensive.

"It's nothing, Stanley, you—I was just checking on you. You're feeling alright?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah," Stan assured, throwing back his mug for a gulp that was almost too hot. "Just, uh... wonderin' if there's something else I forgot or if I'm making it up in my head."

Oh, dear.

"Well," Ford started. "Maybe I can help. What is it?"

Stan put a hand behind his head in hesitation. "I feel like I was married once? Maybe? But I don't know who the hell I married."

So much for helping. Ford knew nothing about that.

"I don't have those details either. Though if you had married, it was probably under my name anyway."

Stan snorted and went back to his coffee. The two were quiet for a moment, both lost in thought.

What Stan asked when he spoke up was naively unexpected. "What about you, huh? Swap samples with any hot chicks when ya were done nerding around the woods?"

"What—" Stanford spluttered coffee. "N-No, I didnt have time for—"

Stan saw right through it and punched him again. "Yes, you did!" he shouted, startling a large pelican away from the boat.

"Oh, I bet you were popular, some girls really like cute nerds." He slammed his mug down, grinning wide. "C'mon, tell me, did ya get any redheads? Or wait, you're into blondes, huh? The real classy gold ones with long eyelashes and a great laugh—"

Oh, God. Ford wanted to jump into the ocean. "Stanley! I didn't have any girlfriends!" he said, pulling his zipper up and shoving both hands into pockets.

"What, none?"

"None!"

"... Really?"

"Well."

Stan poked his twin with a pointed finger. "Well what? There had to have been at least one."

Ford was red as a tomato, chewing on his cheek.

"Fine, yes. There was one."

"HA! Knew it! Spill, poindexter, was she hot? She was the kind that got in your head, right? The kind ya dream about constantly."

He should have kept lying. Now he had a new lie to hold onto. There was no way in this dimension's hell that he could ever tell Stanley, or anyone for that matter, the real truth. He wouldn't even know where to begin with something like that.

"Stan, I don't want to talk about it. Her. Alright?"

"Uh-oh. That bad, huh?"

Ford was pinching the bridge of his nose. Oops. Now Stan felt like a jackass.

"Hey," he said, poking his brother again. "Sorry. I didn't mean to, uh, bring up somethin' that hurt."

Ford sighed and sat upright once more to give Stan a worn out but peaceful smile.

"No, it's alright..." He looked out at the water, at the sun. He could already feel its warmth and hoped it would stay longer than it did the previous day. He finished off his mug and stood, taking in a centering breath.

"I'm going to meditate," he said, and stopped after his first step. "And for your information, yes, she was... blonde."

Stan lit up, and before he could get his hopes up about more answers, his twin swiftly entered the cabin.

"Blonde, huh?" Stanley dug into his pockets for his lighter. "Wonder if I ever met her."