It was a quiet night, almost deathly so, on the Stan-O-War II. There was the ever so softest hint of a cold breeze that tugged lazily at the rigging of the ship, causing the occasional rattle or clink with its' movements. It was still and calm in the late hours of the night like a velvety blanket had descended upon the world and, for just these few short moments, everything was perfect. Stanford almost couldn't bear it. It had been so very very long since his life had been anything resembling "quiet" and he didn't know what to do with it.
"You relax, nerd." Stan had laughed for a bit but he understood the idea of what Ford was dealing with, that much the older twin knew, so he didn't take any offense from it.
Feelings was never something Stan was very good at. Hell, feelings wasn't something either of them were very good at. It's the thing about them that made their whole lives the mess that they had been and things hadn't gotten much easier in that category either, although they had made efforts of course (thank you Mabel). They still had yet to really talk seriously between themselves unprompted by outside forces and so, instead of sleeping or even having a bit of company, Ford stood on the deck of the ship staring out across the waves, his back to the nearby town they were docked at.
One would think that since they were in port that things would be noisier. A few cars, some dogs barking, maybe an angry cat or two but no. There was nothing save for that same whisper of wind, like an icy phantom spreading it's wings in the void.
He took a deep breath in through the nose, that was a thing that was supposed to help, and closed his eyes as he embraced the salty smell of the ocean that swayed their little ship back and forth. He kept his eyes closed and breathed deep again focusing on the gentle rocking of the boat.
It was nice.
Ford breathed again and he felt his shoulders droop as a bit of tension was released. Yes, this was nice. Peaceful, that's what it was. It was peaceful and he needed to learn how to force himself to accept things being peaceful. He didn't need to keep looking over his shoulder all the time anymore. He could stop. He could take a moment. He could breathe and just be. Just him and the gentle rock rock rocking back and forth and the bobbing up and down and up and down and the chill in the air.
A small smile settled over his dry lips and he opened his eyes to gaze out at the vastness of the ocean once again. It was a wondrously clear night with not a single wisp of cloud in sight. The surface of the water mirrored the endless expanse of sky and gave birth to a grandiose nexus of starlight. He breathed again, opening his mouth and tasting the salt in the air.
He was really here.
Here on the Stan-O-War II. He was here. After all this time and everything that had happened he had made it. He was here. He was alive.
He was adjusting.
Not just him either. No, they had both made it. As insane as it was they were both here. This certainly wasn't something he had thought would happen. Not in a very long time. It was hard to believe that the two of them had pulled through. They were both very lucky men. That's what made things a little harder to believe, to accept, Stan was here too, though not with out paying a price. A price his little brother never should have had to pay.
There was no way to undo all of the damage Fiddleford's memory erasing gun had done and that was also Ford's fault. If it hadn't been for him Fiddleford never would have made that wretched creation. As a result Stan tended to have…...moments.
Moments he didn't remember.
Some days were worse than others but other times weeks could go between incidents. Stan didn't want anyone else to know aside from Ford so Ford kept his mouth shut but oh how he so very badly wanted to talk to someone about it all. Stan didn't want anyone worrying. It had taken Stan far too long to let Ford in on what was going on. Back on the needing to talk to each other subject.
It had finally come out when Stan had spent a good few hours only remembering bits and pieces from an entire day. Ford had kept catching him wandering the ship aimlessly holding onto the same can of soda he'd excused himself to go throw away an hour ago and never returned. He had gotten a somewhat panicked look on his face before stumbling over an excuse and going to finally throw away the empty can.
Only for Ford to find him again forty-five minutes later still holding the can. Stan claimed it was a new one he'd just finished before disappearing below deck. After rediscovering him two hours later standing in the middle of their shared room looking pitifully lost, Ford had had enough. He cornered Stan and they'd had it out. Trying to talk to either of them was like pulling teeth and it had devolved into an argument before Stan finally let the issue slip. That had been a few months ago.
Ford tried not to make a big deal out of it but it was hard. It was scary. Any number of things could happen to Stanley when he was like that.
Stanley, his little brother. It's all his fault. He takes in another deep breath, hiccuping slightly before swallowing down the lump growing in his throat. He suddenly became very acutely aware of the silence again and he shuddered. Tension slithered up his spine and ice settled in his gut again.
This was different.
Something was wrong.
He could tell. He knew it he could feel it. There was something wrong. His head whipped back and forth as his eyes darted to glance at every flicker in the darkness. He cautiously moved across the deck, making his way to his and Stanley's cabin. It could just be his nerves again. He shook his head. He'd just go check on Stanley anyway. The two of them could just tell whenever something was wrong with the other.
Or…...they used to. Things hadn't been like that between the two of them in a long time but Ford still remembered how distinct the feeling was and he was certain that that's what it was now. He had to see. He had to make sure. Quietly as possible he opened the door expecting to hear Stanley's snoring but there wasn't a single sound coming from inside the room. It was dark. He took out his flashlight, hoping not to wake Stanley by simply turning on the light itself.
He reached out a hand to rest gently atop the mound in the blankets only for the pile to sink underneath the barest hint of extra weight. Ford's eyes blew wide.
Where was Stanley?
"Stanley?" Ford called out as he flipped the switch and bathed the room in light.
But there were Stanley's boots by the door, his scarf hung from the bed frame, and his coat was draped over the chair in front of Stanford's desk.
"Stanley?!" He yelled louder as he poked his head into the kitchen.
Where was he?
"Stanley!" He finally shouted but only the silence stood by to greet his echoing cry.
He wasn't on the ship. Stan wasn't on the ship. His boots and coat had been left behind. It was cold. Not extremely so but cold enough to be troublesome if exposed too long. Had he just wandered off in his undershirt and boxers? Was Stan having another of his moments?
Oh god. Oh dear lord Stan was having a moment. Stan was having a memory lapse and left the ship.
Now Ford could panic.
Stan blinked as he squinted in the darkness. He blinked harder and shook his head but that didn't help the fact that he was very much definitely not in his bedroom on the Stan-O-War II. He chewed on the inside of his lip as he turned around slowly and looked around at where he found himself. He shivered as the cold breeze wrapped itself around him briefly.
Dear god he was cold. He looked down at himself and snarled. He curled his toes into the dirt under his feet and rubbed at his bared arms. He was in a shirt and pants but no shoes or coat. Of course he was in a shirt and pants standing on a dirt road god knows where at god knows what o'clock. He shivered and looked around again. Oh dear.
He was standing at a crossroads. Literally. There were four directions the road took off in and he had no clue which one might lead back to town, to the docks, to Ford, to home. He bit down on his finger anxiously as he tried to make up his mind. He didn't know where he was. How far from the boat was he? How far from the town? What even was the name of the place? He couldn't remember. He grabbed the sides of his head and snarled in frustration.
Okay, deep breath. He could do this. Which way to go, which way to go? He chewed harder, barely noticing the pain of it as he turned around again and again somehow managing to feel even more lost with each rotation. When the dizziness hit, it all started to feel like it was too much. He sniffled. His nose was running…..because it was cold.
Where to go? He didn't know where to go. Which way? What was he doing out here? He didn't know where he was. He was lost. He was lost and cold.
He was alone.
Alone, he was alone all alone.
"No." He whispered. "Not-not again." He suddenly felt very small, like a little kid with nowhere to go.
He remembered what that felt like. He couldn't do it again.
"Hmn." He groaned before hissing and pulling his finger from his mouth.
Ouch, that was probably going to bruise. He shook his head.
"Get it together Pines!" He chided himself and smacked the side of his head with his hands.
Breathe.
He closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath.
He turned left and walked down the side of the road, keeping and ear out for any cars that might be coming his way. It was very quiet wherever he was and that did go to give him a small amount of comfort. He would hear a car coming for miles.
With how quiet it is he'd be able to hear anything coming.
Anything that might be out there.
Or anyone.
He shivered again and just focused on putting one foot in front of the other. If he was lucky he could find his way back to the ship with Ford being none the wiser of this little slip up. After everything that had happened Ford had developed a tendency to be a mother hen and Stanley needed some space god damn it. He was okay. He could take care of himself.
This wasn't anything too crazy. He'd been through crazier things than sleepwalking. It was either sleepwalking or one hell of a memory lapse and Stan would very much prefer to go with sleepwalking thank you very much. It wasn't a big deal. He didn't even mind all that much that he wasn't wearing shoes aside from the fact that it was cold.
What if he got back and Ford was awake? What if Ford had noticed he'd been gone? How long had he been gone? Could he get away with just saying he'd gone for a walk and chosen to leave behind his shoes and coat? He might be able to work that angle. He rubbed his chin in thought. Getting down to it the night wasn't too crazy cold aside from when the wind was blowing.
"Eh, I didn't think I'd need a coat Sixer." He shrugged nonchalantly in practice for the possible showdown. "Eh, it didn't seem all that cold when I left." He cleared his throat. "It's not that cold- oh hell no 'cause it is that cold. Oh, he'll never believe this." He groaned.
"Yeah." He shrugged. "Kinda missed the feeling of solid ground beneath my feet so I decided not to wear shoes- oh this is ridiculous." He kicked at the dirt beneath his half numb toes.
"Just can't catch a break can I?!" He yelled, spreading his arms out.
He huffed and kicked at the dirt once more before he started walking again, hoping he had picked the right direction. He did his best to tune everything else out and focus on trying to bullshit his way out of this mess with Ford. He only registered that he was walking and continued to keep an ear out around him but it's still oh so very quiet. The grass rustled softly every now and again as the wind whispered its tales with icy breath and the dirt crunched softly beneath his bare feet. He focused on the sound of his own footfalls, pushing out the feel of the cold biting at his feet.
He couldn't have been walking all that long before the steady skkrtch skkrtch of his own footfalls was broken by a different sound. It wasn't very loud but it was heavier. Much heavier. Stan sucked in a breath and reached into his pockets for a pair of brass knuckles that wasn't there. He could hear the soft rustle of grass in the dark, grass that was moving while the wind was dead, but worse still he could hear something walking.
Something big.
He heard it's footfalls as a slow krrtmp krrtmp as it moved its way through the grass. Each step growing louder and louder.
Whatever it was, it was coming straight at him but it was still too dark for him to see what it was. Was it an animal? It didn't sound like a person. This was the UK though and there shouldn't be animals out here that sound so big. What was it? Stan froze in place, gaze darting all around in an attempt to catch sight of something, anything. Still the footsteps creeped ever closer.
He could feel the weight of the creature's steps by the time he caught sight of it. It's eyes are what he saw first. Could he even describe them as eyes? They were two blood red pits sunken into the thing's massive skull, pits that howled and sang to him of the visions in the darkest recesses of his memory. He couldn't breathe. It gave a loud huff through it's nose, snorting like an enraged stallion, as it's gaze lingered on him. Four massive black paws the size of dinner plates shifted in the dirt as it came to a stand still in the road in front of him. Even more terrifying were the claws. The size of his ring finger, wickedly curved and digging deep into the ground beneath the beast's gigantic form. Its' fur was black, blacker than anything he had ever seen. It didn't reflect the light like animal fur should. It remained muted, as if the creature's fur were woven out of shadow itself. It's ears were pricked up high on it's head and its large snout was filled with unnaturally large teeth and, unlike it's fur, they glistened in the moonlight. It's tail was raised behind it and it towered over Stanley.
It was a dog the size of a horse. A large horse.
Stan could panic now right?
"No. No, no, no. When faced with a wild animal do not run." He thought to himself before shuddering as he realized something.
There was no way this was just some animal. This was some kinda freaky shit that would have Ford drooling into the pages of his journal. This was an honest to god monster right in front of him and he didn't even have so much as a pair of shoes.
He was screwed.
It shuffled for a moment before taking another step forward.
"Heeeeeeeeeey." Stan crooned delicately, thinking that he might be able to slip past it yet if it would only stay calm enough for him to do so. "Don't mind me….uh...big...guy. Just….passing through." He tried to keep his voice steady and not look into its' eyes.
If he looked into its' eyes again he would lose it, that much Stan was certain of. He stayed facing the huge animal as he slowly tried to sidle around it. He'd made it nearly past the dog's shoulders when it snapped its' head to the side to stare at him again and let loose a growl that rattled Stan's bones. The man was infinitely thankful no one was around to hear the whimper that crept its' way out of his throat at that. It was a deep rumble that you could feel more than hear and the dog's lips curled up showing Stan that yes those teeth were indeed bigger than he had first thought.
Dear god what was this thing? How was Stan going to pull out of this one? His mind raced but when he stilled the animal quieted. It didn't look away but it wasn't growling anymore either. Stan tried to work on his breathing and pull himself together. He chanced shuffling backward a step and when the beast gave no reaction he risked a few more steps farther away.
If he could just make it around. If he could just pass it by then perhaps it would ignore him.
It growled again when he tried to move forward.
"Come on buddy." He whispered. "I don't want any trouble. Just wanna keep on my way."
He began to slide his way further down the road.
"I'm just trying to get home." He pleaded as he inched by.
The colossal black dog lunged at him with a bark that hit him like a wooden board and took him to the floor. He heard its' teeth snap together with a hollow sounding clunk like that of a crocodile. He rolled away and shot to his feet, keeping the animal in his sights. It barked again and he stumbled for a moment.
"C'mon. I ain't gonna hurt you." Stanley tried again. "I just wanna go that way-" He shrieked as the huge dog lunged again and he, once more, found himself tumbling through the dirt.
"Son of a-" He scrambled to his feet and took off down the road as fast as he could but he could feel the thundering footsteps of the creature behind him and within seconds it leaped in front of him again, teeth bared in a deadly snarl.
"WHAO!" He screamed. "Aw screw this!"
He turned on his heel and ran down the road back the way he came. This time the huge animal didn't follow. That realization certainly didn't slow Stanley down at all. He ran back to the crossroads where he stopped to catch his breath.
"God." He gasped for air. "Damn it!"
He was right back at square one. Where to go? Which road to take? How long had it been? What time was it? Was Ford awake? Was he worried? Where to go? He was still lost. Lost and alone. He shuddered and told himself it was from the cold. He took a deep breath again.
Well the road he just went down is obviously out. Stan sighed and decided to reorient himself and walk down the path that had been behind him when he had first come to.
It wasn't long before he heard the heavy footsteps again.
No. No, it couldn't be.
But there it was, its' red eyes boring into him from the shadows. He turned and ran back to the crossroads. From there he took the road that led directly ahead and didn't stop running this time. His chest ached but he kept going. He had to get out of here. He had to get away. He wasn't going to wind up like that idiot in the opening scene of a horror movie. He ran without thinking about anything else but again he could hear something in the darkness. It almost sounded like a horse galloping but heavier, bulkier. It couldn't be.
It couldn't be.
It flew out of the shadows and Stan had no time to stop himself before he slammed into the black dog's flank. He sunk to his knees in an attempt to slide under but his head smacked into the dog's rib-cage and he hit the dirt road with a thud. He scrambled out from underneath the animal and kept running. He heard the thing lose traction as it tried to turn too fast and fell to the ground behind him.
"Ha! Sucker!" Stan shouted but no sooner had he finished that it was back on its' feet and charging toward him with a bark that staggered him.
"Holy Moses!" He stumbled, barely managing to keep his feet under him before he tripped over a thick branch laying in the road.
"I don't even see any trees!" Stan screamed, granted it was night out.
He could hear the dog behind him. It was close, too close. It was going to catch him. Any second it would be on him and what could he do against something like that? That thing was huge. Its' teeth were like swords, a mouthful of swords. How was he supposed to fight a face made of swords?
Screw it.
With a thunderous cry he lifted the branch into his hands and swung it at the monstrosity as it careened toward him. The branch hit its mark with a loud crack and Stan almost gave a victory holler. He was only given a second to understand that the dog had caught the branch before it snapped its jaws shut and the wood exploded into splinters. Stanley's body shook as it towered over him, that deep menacing growl running through him in waves.
"I'll take a piece of you with me!" Stan roared.
Brandishing what was left of the branch he leaped forward and cracked the animal across the head with it. Hopefully this thing's snooze button worked. The beast made a sound of pain and Stanley gave a triumphant yell as he swung again. The thing pulled back and slammed its' whole head into him, sending him sprawling to the ground again and this time the animal was on him instantly.
One gigantic paw slammed down beside his head, shaking the ground beneath him. The other came up to press onto his back and, just like that, he couldn't move. He could smell its' hot breath and it reeked. He felt those jaws close around his thigh and lift him from the ground.
The shout he gave was not one of pain but one of surprise. It was gentle as it lifted him from the ground. He might still have a bruise but it didn't break the skin. Grateful, and confused as he was this now left him in the awkward position of dangling upside-down by one thigh from this dog's mouth. Not fun. It stepped low and he knocked his head against the road. Maybe it had babies to teach how to hunt. Wild animals did that right?
No. Nope. That's not how he was going to go out.
He snarled before pulling his arm back and popping the animal right on the nose. It yelped and he hit the ground with a thump as it dropped him.
"Hah!" Stan shouted as he bolted down the road. "Think you can get the best of Stan Pines?! Think again sucke-" He was cut off as the dog leaped on top of him with a snarl, pinning him beneath its' weight.
Oh he was going to be in so much pain if he lived to see sunrise. He going to be a sentient bruise.
Again the teeth came down around his thigh and as he was lifted into the air the animal tilted its' head awkwardly and Stan's head bumped the ground again. At his protesting shout the dog set him down and tried to find better purchase. Shifting slightly and lifting him again before putting him down and repeating everything all over again. It nosed his other leg and tried the same with that one but they ended up in much the same circumstances as before.
"Put me down!" Stan snarled.
Surprisingly the animal did and he found himself face down in the dirt once again. The paw that had been pressing against his back and shoulders instead moved clumsily beneath him to turn him over. He kicked out and flailed but the dog just started using its' mouth to maneuver him around and just the sight of those teeth made Stan freeze.
It rolled him onto his side and wrapped its' jaws around his whole hip, teeth reaching over to the crease of his groin and opposite thigh. It moved to lift him and he began to slide at an awkward angle which lead to the giant creature repositioning its' teeth again to find a better position. Once it felt secure in its' grip on his midsection it began to walk back the way they had come.
"God!" He squirmed as much as he dared. "Damn it!" He couldn't reach it's face, or any of the massive dog, to get in a good enough hit.
Anything he did was little more than a play slap.
Dear god he was going to die.
Ford sucked in desperate breath after desperate breath as he tore through their shared room in search of his missing shoe. Stanley was out god knows where, alone and cold and he needed to find his brother now! He snarled in frustration and kicked his desk.
"Son of a bitch Stanley!" He shouted holding onto his foot in pain.
Next time maybe he'd remember to kick the desk with the foot that had the shoe on it. He wanted to pitch a royal fit and throw, break, something.
"Stan's an adult." He told himself. "He'll be okay. He knows how to take care of himself."
Breathe.
Breathe he did. He sucked in a slow, deep breath and held onto it for a few seconds. He let it out slowly and repeated this process several more times, keeping count of the seconds in his head. He opened his eyes as he released his breath and almost sobbed. Tucked in the farthest corner beneath his desk, was his missing shoe. He lunged forward and laced the boot to his foot as fast as he could before gathering Stanley's boots and coat into his arms and running to the deck of the boat.
The cold air wasn't a bother with the right clothes, in fact he was probably going to overheat at this rate with how much running he's doing. His feet had just hit the wooden boards of the dock when Ford heard a familiar voice that sounded more than a little angry.
"Oh for god's sake just-grrrr-mmmmmph-let-hrmmmm-GO!"
Stanley!
"If you're gonna eat me just do it already! This hurts you know!"
He was in trouble! Ford's feet were moving before he had even thought to do so. He bolted toward the sound of his twin's voice further down the beach. He stumbled for a moment as he landed on the soft sand but his recovery was swift and in seconds he was darting across the coastline. Stan's voice grew louder as Ford ran and he ducked behind a boulder before his brother came into view.
Ford pulled his gun from his holster and took a few steadying breaths. He opened his eyes and flew around the corner, gun raised and finger resting on the trigger.
"Holy mother of-!" He exclaimed upon seeing his brother dangling from the jaws of a massive black dog. "Stanley!"
"Oh! Ford!" Stanley twisted his neck around to look at Ford. "I swear I was just going for a walk and-"
The dog growled at Ford and that was not a welcome feeling for Stanley, not one bit.
"Ford." Stan hissed at him. "Maybe you should put the gun away."
"Are you kidding me?"
"I'm just saying, Sir Francis Bacon doesn't seem to like it. He's getting a bit tense and I just so happen to be in his mouth right now."
"Stanley you can't-" He stopped. "…..Sir Francis Bacon?"
"I couldn't just keep calling him "it" or "big guy". Seemed fitting."
"Sir. Francis. Bacon."
"Hodtrod Woofington was too long, Prince of Barkness just seemed cliché, Andy War-howl didn't quite fit, and Captain Merrylegs was just out of the question."
"What?"
Bacon (Sir Francis) growled again.
"Ford." Stanley hissed. "Put it down."
Ford grit his teeth but didn't see much else that he could do. Even if he did kill the beast it would still fall and if it fell with Stanley in its' mouth the end wouldn't be very pretty. Ford did as he was told. He stood up and stared back at the thing holding onto his brother.
To their surprise the dog merely stood where he was for a few moments before bending his head and putting Stanley back down. The man crawled out from under the huge animal and darted across the beach toward his brother.
"Holy, mother, hot damn, son of a bitch!" Stan shouted as he bolted.
Sir Francis Bacon remained where he was and he simply watched them with soulless unblinking eyes.
"Stanley are you okay?" Ford asked as he bent down and picked up the gun.
He had only taken his eyes off of the massive beast just long enough to grab his pistol but even so by the time his gaze returned the creature had vanished. Ford ran forward to see if he could catch sight of the retreating monster but couldn't see it. There weren't even any paw prints on the sand, only his and Stanley's.
"If you aren't over here in ten seconds I'm leaving your ass on this beach." Stanley growled at him.
Stanley wound up giving a half-assed excuse that Ford did not believe in the slightest. The pair were much too tired to argue by that point and both of them went to bed rather quickly.
"We'll talk about this in the morning." Ford had said.
The way he had said it had sounded almost ominous to Stan's ears.
"I think it may have been a Black Dog." Ford said as he adjusted the screen on his laptop.
"Hm?" Stan groaned.
He had been right about the bruises from before. Things were not going to be okay in Stan Pines's world for a few days.
"A Black dog." Ford repeated. "Very common folklore around here. There are a few variations but mostly they're interpreted as an omen of doom."
"Uuuuuuugh." Stan groaned. "I don't wanna have anything to do with no doom ever again. Once was enough."
"Luckily." Ford chuckled. "That's not how they appear all of the time. Sometimes it's to hunt."
"Very reassuring."
"Will you let me finish?"
Stanley held his hands up in surrender.
"Thank you." Ford adjusted his glasses and looked back down at the screen. "Sometimes they're fond of scaring people, other times they're guarding something, and, at rare times, have even guided lost travelers home."
"I wasn't lost." Stan grumbled.
"Yes you were." Ford countered.
"I would've been fine. You didn't need to freak out."
"I didn't freak out." Ford said shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his coffee.
"Ford, you tore our room apart like a puppy with separation anxiety."
"I couldn't find my boot."
"So you tore the room apart, kicked the desk, and broke three toes? You lost your mind. Admit it! I can still take care of myself Ford!"
"I know you can." Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's just-" He sighed again.
"Just what Ford? Can't keep worrying about me? Gotta keep me in your sight? I don't need that."
"I can't-" Ford's words died in his throat.
"Can't? Spit it out Ford. You can't what?"
"I can't lose you again!" Ford blurted out and that shut Stan right up. "I lost you too you know. All those times. I lost my brother too and I was just too stupid to think about it that way. I lost you every single one of those times too and I didn't care enough. I can't do it again. Not now. Not now that I know, now that I understand."
Ford's fingers had curled into fists and he slowly bent forward to rest his forehead on the table as he spoke.
"I refuse" Ford hissed through gritted teeth. "to let it happen again." He raised his head to look Stanley in the eyes with a level of seriousness that Stanley had rarely seen. "I'm not losing you again."
Long moments passed between them as the two sat across from each other at the table. Ford's gaze never left Stan but the old con man couldn't bring himself to meet the intensity of that stare. Feelings again. They were bad with feelings. Stanley picked at a bit of splinter lodged in his palm anxiously for a bit before standing and abruptly wrapping Stanford in a tight hug.
"I'm right here, right now, with you, and I'm not going anywhere." He spoke the words like they were a sacred vow and, after everything the pair had been through, it may as well have been.
"But seriously." Stan said, pulling back to stick a finger in Ford's face. "You can't expect me to deal with your mother henning quietly when you can't even stick to my 'two cups of coffee before two PM only' rule."
Ford gave out a loud bark of laughter.
"You're laughing. I'm serious." Stanley said as he stood but he was chuckling too as he made his way over to the cabinets.
"Don't you touch my coffee Stanley." Ford warned.
Stan's chuckle only grew louder.
"I mean it Stan."
Stan cackled from the kitchen.
"Stanley!" Ford shouted as he leaped from his seat and ran into the kitchen.
Altogether, it had been one of their better supernatural creature encounters, even if they did spend three fruitless weeks trying to find Sir Francis Bacon again.