He honestly wasn't surprised that Ford was already gone by the time he'd woken up. Since he'd gotten over being sick, he'd moved his nerd stuff over to the university pretty quickly. Chances were he was there taking notes from the cultists' books he'd nabbed last night. Or teaching class. Did he have morning classes? When were any of the classes Ford taught?

Actually, forget the time they were at… what was he even teaching? And were any of them inside the Chemistry building? If he was that close to one of Scarecrow's usual spots…

Stan shook his head. There was no point trying to figure out how Ford and Jonathan ran into each other right now. Point was – it happened, and it couldn't have been all that great. Especially if it was while the guy had the mask on.

Ugh, he still didn't even want to think about it. On the bright side, Scarecrow shouldn't have tried to kill Ford or nothing. Short of that though, Scarecrow didn't have a whole lot of reservations about what he'd do. Jonathan was one of Oswald's better sets of friends, but seriously – guy could go way over the top when he went all Scarecrow.

Hell, Oswald himself had even made a half-joking comment to Stan early on about not taking things from Jonathan, fear toxin or whatever not being all that rare coming from the guy. Later on, not joking at all, Oswald had told Stan to call him if he'd ever seriously thought he might have gotten hit with some of the toxin.

… What if Scarecrow had hit Ford with a dose?

Stan immediately dispelled the thought. No way. No. He would have noticed. Hell, Ford probably would have barricaded himself into the apartment with his crossbow on hand.

Whatever happened, it wasn't bad enough for Ford to have gotten hit with the usual fear toxin, but it was also long enough for them to talk apparently. At that too, talk long enough for Oswald to come up.

He sighed, and scrubbed at his face, moving back to his room to grab some clothes. He needed to tell Oswald about this. Hopefully, Jonathan hadn't already tried asking him about it.

Stan wasted a few minutes walking around the living room before actually leaving for the lounge.

Oswald greeted him cordially, as always. It was a calm night, nothing much to do, which just meant sticking by Oswald. Stan nervously waited for a lull between people coming by to talk with Oswald before saying anything.

It's not like he'd lied to Oswald about anything though. Well, okay, he had. If you wanted to get technical about it. It wasn't about anything that important though. It's not like he'd ever outright said Ford hadn't come back with him. Or that his brother wasn't an identical twin.

It just so happened that Stan hadn't told his boss about either of those! Heck, if Oswald had ever asked Stan those oddly specific questions then you can bet your bottom dollar he would have told the truth.

After a few minutes without anybody there, Stan finally spoke up. "So, uh, Mr. Cobblepot. I found something out and I figured you oughta know."

"Ah, so that's why you've appeared so nervous since you came in. I was wondering."

"Heh," Stan put on a half-hearted smile, "yeah, you know me." He uncrossed his arms, not quite looking over at him. "So, you remember how I had to check on my brother 'cause he was sick? Well, I actually had to bring him back here to help him recover." He paused for a quick second. "But, y'see, he's my twin and we're identical and I'm pretty sure good ol' Jonathan met up with him." Stan finished, giving Oswald a smile to try and keep it casual.

All things considered, pretty useless since he now realized Mr. Cobblepot was intently watching him. "You're saying you just found that out?" Oswald asked in a cool voice, the cut and dry tone making Stan's smile freeze in place for a moment.

"Honest, Mr. Cobblepot." He insisted, staying calm as he gestured out with a hand. "My brother didn't even outright tell me. He just said something last night and I pieced it together."

"You didn't think it might be imperative to tell me you had an identical twin who is now inside Gotham city?" Mr. Cobblepot asked simply.

It felt like there was a chunk of dry ice in his throat. He'd never even thought about it. Ford had practically been a hermit back in Oregon, and Stan had kind of expected him to just hole himself up while he was here too. At least Stan had thought he'd have more time before anything like this could have happened.

Mr. Cobblepot scowled. "This would certainly explain Jonathan's suspicious attitude from when he visited."

He remembered Jonathan's odd intention to talk with him last time. The comment about his haircut, really weird back at the time, was thrown in a whole different light now. With his hair cut short again Stan looked just that bit more like Ford. Of all the damn times for a haircut to matter… "Did he say something?" Stan asked.

"No, but he acted as though something was amiss." Penguin lightly tapped his cane against the ground and continued, keeping his eyes focused on Stan. "He believed I was up to something, and I have more than a fair guess as to why now. So Stanley, what happened exactly?"

"I… don't know." He admitted.

"You don't know? "

"I just know they met, and they must have talked. Enough at least that my brother knows that I've robbed a couple banks." This info was practically nothing, and Stan was painfully realizing that now. He wished he'd gotten even just the tiniest sliver of something more from Ford about what had happened before telling Oswald about Ford. "I should have told ya earlier, and I was going to soon. I just…" He glanced away for a split second, and immediately forced his gaze back on Penguin again, fully realizing how guilty that must have looked. "Honest, I didn't think he'd meet anyone . The only place he even goes out to is the university. Sometimes the grocery store, but that's it."

Penguin held the intent look at him for a long moment, before sighing and turning his gaze off of him. Just like that the tension left the room, and Stan finally had room to breath again.

"This could have turned out very badly , Stanley." Oswald said, calmly though sounding a bit tired. "It may still even now, depending on how much Doctor Crane has prepared for whatever he believes is going on. You realize that, don't you?" He asked, looking back at Stan.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do, Mr. Cobblepot." Stan nodded. "Trust me, if I could I would have gone back and told you about it, day one."

"Why didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't sure he was going to actually stick around, at first." He admitted. It wasn't just that though, was it? Right off the bat, he'd lied and told Oswald that Ford had gotten pneumonia. It was definitely part of the reason though, so he kept going. "Then he was, and I guess I was just hoping for things to settle before telling you."

"If there's one thing about this city, it's that it never allows things to rest." Oswald said with a short, uneven smile. "Tell me everything now, though, before anything else can happen."

"Well, he got a job as a professor at the university. Strong guess is saying that's how him and our dear Professor of Fear met." Stan told him. "Still trying to figure the specifics out outside of that." Not everything was matching up. Ford's mood hadn't changed until about a week ago, but he knew Ford had asked about Scarecrow before that, and that was too much of a coincidence to be nothing.

He hummed, flippers tapping on the cane. "What's your brother's name again?"

"Huh? Oh right, it's Ford. Stanford." He answered. "Jonathan should have been able to tell he wasn't me once they talked though. He's completely different."

"How so?"

Stan snorted. "Where do I even start?" They were practically polar opposites. "He's a real nerd, to be honest with you, Mr. Cobblepot. Not a people person either, I'll tell you that. I'm surprised he even got a teaching job, before I found out why he did it."

"Was it the pay?" Oswald guessed, rather easily.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you, but no." Stan waved a hand, shaking his head. "Nah, not Ford, though he probably thought it was a good bonus. But no, ha." He settled his hand back down again. "He wanted to get his hands on some books from the library, but they were for Professors only. So, what's he do? Apply for a job right then and there like that's the easiest way to do it." His face broke out into a smile. "Half-sick for the interview too. Good thing they didn't give him a staff ID after the interview. Knowing him, he would have gone straight over to get into the restricted books and nearly passed out instead of waiting just the few days until he felt better, heh..."

"He sounds like quite the dedicated reader then." Oswald said, with a bit of a smile.

"Always was," Stan agreed.

Oswald returned to the subject, then. "If something else happens though, I need you to tell me right away, Stanley." He continued, emphasizing on the point. "As soon as you're able to. Even if you're not entirely sure whether or not it may be important. Needless to say, something like this would have been much better to know back when I last talked with Jonathan."

"I will, I will, I promise." Stan assured him. "There's really not much else to… tell though." He faltered in his words, remembering the cult.

Oswald immediately noticed, watching him silently and giving him an opportunity to talk.

"It's a long story, but we did check out that one supposed-cult on 7th street." Stan told him.

Oswald paused, taking that simple piece of information in. "Why, if you don't mind me asking?"

"My brother's really into ghosts and stuff like that." Not necessarily a lie. "He thought there might be something there." A separate statement that also wasn't a lie, but definitely misleading from the specifics. "There's more to it, but he's a real private sort of guy. Long story short, though, there's definitely a cult down there. We got out of there really fast, but we met some Father Do guy. Honestly? It's pretty typical cult stuff, don't think they got a lot of members though. Not like they're doing anything either."

Oswald asked him a few more questions about the cult - what was down there (creepy stuff), what Do was like (slimy), and more. Thankfully, he didn't press on the specifics of Do's pitch. Stan really wasn't in the mood to talk about that.

Admittedly, Ford couldn't help being agitated as he taught. He'd been tempted to read one of the books as he taught class, but he hadn't wanted to risk one of his students catching sight of the odd book.

Besides today was the Chemistry lab for the week, and that required him to be more hands-on than usual.

"Yes, Miss Jackson - that's very good, keep the centrifuge going just that speed."
"Stop- Stop, yes. Yes, you." Ford went over to someone at a bunsen burner and twisted the crucible loose enough to lower it until it was just touching the flame. "Don't forget, the crucible needs to be right here to properly heat."
He turned and rested against the counter, scanning over the students. Ford sighed upon seeing one of them half slumped against the table and nearly asleep. "Mister Grayson, please." Ford tapped nearby on the table to wake him up. "I understand if you're tired, but it's a safety hazard for you to sleep in this area - thank you."

He felt like he was buzzing around the room. Supervision wasn't quite to his tastes, but today it was perhaps better than a lecture would have been. It had taken him a substantial amount of control to not breeze past the explanation of the experiment today and go at a pace that he knew was still a tad fast for the students. He probably would have prevented a lot more mistakes and questions from the students if he'd gone slower, but he had barely been able to stand going as slow as he had.

As he dismissed the class, he didn't even bother to wait for anybody that may have had questions. If nothing else, they could come to his office hours if it was that pressing. It would be fine.

He went to his office, locking the door after himself, and immediately went back to his seat with the books and notebooks still opened on the desk.

Plenty could be said about Father Do, little of it kind, but at the very least the books in the library had some substantial material to them. There was plenty for him to test through.

Hopefully something would work. There were certainly quite a number of wards. Most of them had requirements regarding flesh and blood though so perhaps it would be best to test those particular ones later. He continued reading through the book, marking down notes on a nearby notepad for possible solutions. He skimmed past most of the material that couldn't help against Bill. One or two things made him stop though.

The first was their planar theory. Two realms side by side with each other, dipping through each other at certain points. It was definitely interesting, but it presented a whole host of issues. If something like that were to happen then it'd create areas with high risk for dimensional tears with enough of the right activity. He'd considered a similar idea at one point, back when he was in Gravity Falls. That was before he'd confirmed they were just simple wormholes though!

Then - he just had to read the passage about the doppelgangers in full this time. It was admittedly a fascinating idea, even if it was practically pulled out of thin air. He had to admit how unique the concept was though. Individuals across realms being the force to help tie them together, as opposed to gravitational fields or anything similar. It was as unique a theory as it was fanciful.

Eventually, Ford did decide to leave. He didn't quite want to go back to the apartment, but so much of the information in the books was unreliable that he'd have to check through some of the equations as he went. Plus, he already had plenty of wards and similar anti-possession methods he could try out. He could work on figuring out how to get all the supplies now, and double back on the rest later.

He'd start testing out the simpler stuff first. Definitely. He didn't need to think about the animal blood until later.

When he got back to the apartment, he saw the light from the kitchen and paused before turning around the wall and seeing Stan leaning against the countertop.

"Hey." Stan said, looking very much as though he was about to talk quite a lot. Quite a lot, and, additionally, if there had been a chair nearby that he would have pulled it around and sat on it in the opposite direction that it had been designed for.

Ford glanced back at the door, which was undoubtedly the easiest way to avoid this particular conversation.

"Hear me out, for just a second," Stan said, getting Ford to look back at him. His brother had a hand reached out halfway towards him, before he pulled it back. He put his hands together up near his face before lowering them back down again. "Alright," Stan said. "Okay, so yeah." He gave a shrug. "I didn't tell ya about my job." He said point-blank, not giving Ford the chance to make an excuse and walk away. "I figured you'd freak out about it, which you did."

"That may have been due to how I found out about it, Stanley." Ford replied, not letting that comment just slide by. If Stanley wanted to talk about it, he wasn't going to just let him talk about last night like it was some overreaction on Ford's part.

Stan grimaced. "I was really underestimating bad luck around here." He said, hands going back to the countertop. "You wouldn't believe this place sometimes." He tapped his fingers against the counter. "Should have told ya a bit more 'bout Scarecrow at least, with the University and all."

Ford paused, waiting for the other figurative shoe to drop. Waiting for the inevitable excuse as Stan crossed his arms, uncaring, to say something about Ford's own (necessary) secrecy as though it validated keeping Ford in the dark about everything.

"So, alright." Stan began.

Ford scowled,fully prepared.

"Ask me whatever you want to know." Stan told him.

Ford paused, at that. "...What?"

Stan waved a hand. "Look, I wasn't looking forward to bringing up my job being a little illegal here and there. You already know that though, so everything else is water under the bridge or whatever."

Ford frowned, although he couldn't help pausing out of disbelief. Was Stan just preparing to get all the lying out of the way? What'd be the point, though? Still, he asked. "Who do you work for?"

Stan made a face. "Don't'cha already know that one?"

"I want to hear it from you." He had heard it from nearly everything and everyone besides Stan, or at least that's how it felt - between Bill, Jonathan, and all the newspapers. Even a couple of people at the university. He just wanted to finally hear it from Stan this time. He tensely waited, half-expecting a lie even though he knew it would be an utterly ridiculous one by this point.

Stan rubbed the back of his head. "Okay, I work for a guy called Oswald Cobblepot, at the Iceberg Lounge." Stan said. "It's kind of half-legitimate club business and half-crime."

"Half crime - that's candid."

"You know, technically speaking - I never lied about it or nothing." Stan pointed out.

Ford openly scowled at him.

Stan shrugged, looking off. "I mean, you friggin' met Jonathan, I'm not saying it turned out to be a good thing." He paused, bringing up a short smile. "Although... if you think about it, could have been a lot worse. Yeah? So, not the most awful situation here."

"That still means it wasn't a good thing." Ford firmly pointed out, even though Stan had already said so himself.

Stan sighed and crossed his arms. "It's called not being a sour-puss, Ford." He shook his head. "Look, okay. I was gonna tell ya," he shrugged, arms going out, "I wasn't looking forward to tellin' ya that I've been robbing banks, but between half the crazy people here that recognize my face and the felonies I've committed in this town alone - that's kinda something that'll blow up eventually. Especially in a town like this. I'd have to be a special brand of stupid to risk never telling you." He crossed his arms back over again.

"It already blew up, I'd say."

"Well, yeah! But this could blow up about five more times! Between Oswald's friends, his partners, my guys," he started listing on his fingers, thinking, "a few gangs we stole from, the bank crime ring, that one suit shop I first tried to work at... that one gang I accidentally joined then left..." he looked down at his fingers before muttering. "Cops are a given. Feel like I'm forgetting someone, though." Another moment then he looked back up to Ford. "Point is - there was no way this was gonna be a 'never tell ya' thing."

Ford tried to take in all the information. "What happened at the suit shop..?"

"One thing led to another, and they were gonna fire me for no good reason so I went and stole a three piece on my way out."

It was awful, but Ford found himself breaking into a smile.

Stan half smiled himself. "Picked out a fancy brand one too. One of the ones with real class, you should see it."

"Don't tell me you wear it to rob banks." Ford said, the imagery already in his head like a scene out of some movie.

"No. No, no way. Listen, I save that baby for the nice stuff, like Galas and fancy parties." He waved a hand then. "For the record though, I don't just rob banks all day long or anything."

"What do gangs do all day then?" Ford asked him.

Stan took in a big breath before saying. "It's really not a 'gang.' Not that much of one, at least." He said before explaining. "Look, Sixer. Most of my job? It's actual nightclub business. That's what I do. Yeah, we plan stuff here and there, but if we robbed a bank every day I'd be in jail more often than not."

That was... actually better than he'd been thinking. It did make sense too. "What about threatening rival nightclubs...?"

He let out a laugh. "Yeah, no. Can't really say we do that. Not unless someone's already out to threaten us or something like that. Believe it or not, Cobblepot's a sort of classy guy."

"Classy for someone organizing bank robberies, I presume."

Stan waved a hand. "No, I mean it. He likes pulling some illegal stuff on the side, but nothing too bad. Mostly it's getting back at the same rich jerks. He's a real gentleman though. More trustworthy than half of Gotham, easy."

Ford paused for half a second, the description oddly settling down at the bottom of his stomach . "Why would you say that?"

Stan made a face. "'Cause he is." He answered as simply as though it was an infallible truth. "This town is full of shady people so not like I have to take a poll with questions like 'would you steal an orphan's bicycle' and see where Oswald lands on the scale."

"He talks with criminals and is infamous for shady deals, isn't he?" Even Ford realized pointing that out was... being a bit oddly suspicious of a man he had never met, but he couldn't help it. The man just struck him as exceptionally untrustworthy. Besides, there had to be some truth to the newspapers he'd read about the man.

"Hey, he's better than the politicians in town." Stan said, pointing at him. "I know he looks shady, and he talks with a lot of shady characters, but he's the best one out of all those types."

It's a bad idea to trust him like that. Ford barely bit back from saying that out loud. A part of him felt insistent on making sure Stan at least heard it, but he knew he had absolutely no basis to put anything behind the words. Even if he had met the man, he really doubted Stan would listen to him either. He cleared his throat. "Who's the worst then?"

"Still Joker." Stan answered, with a shrug. "You really can't hardly expect what he'll do either. That's the big thing about him. Could turn out completely fine or he could kill you where you stand. Most everyone has something you just avoid though."

Ford focused back onto the conversation. Stan seemed to be truly offering honesty to his questions, and considering what had happened with Jonathan, he wanted to know enough to keep himself safe and off anyone else's radar. "So.. who knows you again?"

"Cops around the banking district, a couple gangs, again - that suit shop. If anyone calls you Sterlin, just get out of there, honestly." He waved a hand. "And nearly everyone Oswald talks to." Stan told him. "I help him out with a lot of the stuff, so a lot of them know my face. Which can really help out here and there, you know." He said lightheartedly pointing to Ford. "They're not looking for a fight with Oswald so they're not gonna go looking to hurt you if they think it's me. Like Jonathan - he's on good terms with him."

"They put a gun to my back." Ford said, without even thinking about it. Just a simple fact in response.

Stan stopped at that and there was a long beat of silence that Ford had to be the one to break.

"I wasn't shot." He added.

"Did he hurt you?" Stan asked.

Ford actually had to think about that for a second. He had been so worried the whole time that something was going to happen... but in retrospect it never did. "No," he said slowly. "The kidnapping wasn't appreciated though."

Stan rubbed a hand over his face. "Of course he-...Jesus." He pulled his hands down to look at Ford. "What happened?"

Ford blinked as though Stan had just asked him an odd question, and Stan went thin-lipped. He hadn't really meant to ask right now, while Ford was probably still mad at him. He really hadn't been expecting Jonathan to have put Ford at gunpoint though.

"It's... a little bit of a long story." Ford said.

Stan didn't say anything, waiting, and in the meantime thinking through if he could get away with punching Jonathan in his face. He could definitely do it, guy was a string bean and definitely wouldn't see it coming. Hell, Stan was half-thinking of just doing it anyways.

Ford started. "The first night I was here-"

"Christ, really? "

Ford paused, looking at Stan.

Stan quickly waved a hand, "Keep going - go on, first night here."

"The first night I was here, I decided to take my application to the University and slip it in the mailbox."

Stan nearly asked what time, but it had to have been when he was already asleep, which meant ... a time Ford really shouldn't have just been walking out in Gotham alone without knowing a single thing about it.

"While I was there, I saw three men breaking into a building on campus, one of whom was dressed as a scarecrow. Jonathan, of course." Ford told him. "Naturally, I followed to see what was going on."

Stan half choked on air. "Uh, what? "

"What?" Ford gave him a confused look. "I didn't know he was a criminal at the time."

"You don't - you don't just follow someone in the middle of night." Stan replied in a tight voice. He was really starting to get a new understanding of how Ford could have gotten in so much trouble before. A few memories from their childhood came to mind, and Stan nearly couldn't believe he'd forgotten... Ford was always the one to turn right into an abandoned cave or follow after something just because it was mysterious. Sure, Stan was right there with him, but it was because he wasn't scared of whatever trouble they'd get into. Ford, on the other hand, never seemed to realize any danger was there until it was already on them.

"I wasn't going to confront them." Ford waved a hand, as though that made it perfectly reasonable. He continued, starting to describe the rest of the night. Scarecrow had been gathering stuff for his fear toxin, and then some poor campus security guard had come by. Ford said when Scarecrow turned towards him, he hadn't been sure if he'd even been spotted, but now he knew better, and that by that point he'd ran off and back to the apartment.

"... So, he spotted you and thought it was me." Stan said. It made sense with the way Jonathan had been acting that one week. Whatever he was thinking exactly, who knew, but you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who wouldn't think being trailed like that wasn't suspicious.

"Indefinitely. He even confirmed as much the next time." Ford replied neutrally.

"What happened the next time?" Stan asked, even if there was a part of him that still didn't want to know. Whatever stupid reason Jonathan had had for pulling a gun on Ford, he wasn't going to like it.

Ford told him, barely hesitating. He described being caught and walked to a car at gunpoint - calmly telling the story in contrast to Stan who tensely stayed still as he listened.

Ford's voice took on a sour note near the end though. "It eventually led to Jonathan saying he'd mistaken me for you in a bad disguise. He mentioned Oswald's name, and when I asked who, he realized I had no idea what was going on." He finished the story in a clipped tone. "I told him I wasn't involved, then left. The next day I looked into who Oswald was precisely and found plenty on the matter."

So, Ford had read a whole lot of newspapers talking trash about Oswald. That at least explained what had been up with Ford earlier when he'd talked about him. "Yeah, Oswald said the professor had seemed pretty suspicious about him when they'd talked." He withheld a sigh. "Normal person could have just confronted 'me' while under cover, but hey - can't expect that here."

"Well, he doesn't really strike a normal impression." Ford crossed his arms in front of himself. "What does Mr. Cobblepot know about me?" He asked, a bit suddenly.

Stan took the suspicion-laced question in stride. "Barely anything. Up until today, he didn't even know you were in Gotham." He explained. "When I took off work, I told him you had pneumonia and that I was just taking care of you while you recovered." He then remembered. "Oh yeah, heads up, I also said you lived in Nebraska."

He looked at him in genuine surprise and confusion. "Nebraska?"

"Yeah, that one was kind of on the fly. If I told him Oregon, he'd know I was only there for a day or two. Kind of suspicious to go all the way across the country to take care of someone with pneumonia, then only spend a hot minute actually there." It also didn't hurt to have a place nobody in Gotham knew about.

Ford thought over that before asking. "... Why Nebraska though?"

Stan shrugged. "Who'd take a trip to Nebraska?"

"Fair point." Ford conceded.

"Exactly." Stan said. "All he really knows is that you're a professor at the university. That's kinda public knowledge though."

Ford slowly nodded his head. "That's...not bad. That's fine."

Ford wasn't actually seeming to focus on the crime stuff, so Stan was feeling pretty relieved by this point. Yeah, Ford was probably upset about it still, but at least not to the point of being as mad as he'd been last night.

Stan figured the crime stuff would have his brother with his nose up high looking down at him for days. Well - it was still too early to call that one out just yet.

Stan waited for another question or something, but Ford seemed like he was already off in his own thoughts. Stan let him be for a few seconds before pushing away from the counter. He needed to call Oswald. "I gotta make a phone call, but if you wanna know what banks to avoid or whatever else, just ask. Banks are all a wash though, if you ask me."

His brother glanced up to him as he talked, and he hesitated before asking something. Or rather, tentatively said something. His tone was some confused mix between asking him versus telling him. "You're not telling Mr. Cobblepot about the portal?"

"What?" One side of Stan's face scrunched up for a second. "Sixer, no. You kidding me? No." He waved a hand. "Even if Oswald was into that kind of science stuff or wanted to know, I wouldn't go telling him about it. Last thing this town needs is another doomsday device."

"Technically speaking, it wasn't designed to..." Ford wound up closing his mouth though, letting the sentence go, waving a hand. "Regardless, even so." Then, unable to breeze past the wording. " 'Another?' "

"Yeah, it's been tried a couple times here." Stan said with a shrug, internally cringing. Bringing up doomsday devices right now probably wasn't a good idea.

"What happened?" Ford asked curiously.

"I'm not sure, but we're still here so I'm gonna go with either they didn't work or the Bat stopped them."

Ford stopped. "... That's a little concerning."

"Yeah, you're telling me." Stan agreed, going to step out. "If we're lucky there won't be another one."

...

...

But when was the last time either of them had good luck.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

EYYYYYY wow I realized it's been a little bit over three months. That's my bad. Thanks again to my beta who's always a huge help.

ALSO HOOOO MAN- SOME COMMUNICATION HUH?!

Healthy communication from a stan twin - it's a miracle. It's finally happened.