I had an idea for another outcome in a recent chapter of WH, but you don't really need to read that to know what's going on. Basically, Deep Chris from Sev'ral Timez is at the shack, posing as someone else. This isn't meant to be a 2kish one-shot like I would normally prefer to write, I just figured I'd turn the idea into a small little ficlet/drabble. Enjoy!
Ford was in the kitchen, tea cooking on the stove. There was something off about the supposedly sick blonde in the living room, which he had noticed ever since they were returning to the Mystery Shack from their camping trip. Surely this person wasn't the man he was being fooled to believe it was. This person was much quieter than Bill was. He wasn't speaking, and hardly made eye contact. Whereas Ford, admittedly, could hardly get Bill to stop talking most of the time.
He acts so much different. Ford tells himself, popping the cork off the vial of a sleeping mixture he had concocted several years ago. This man can't possibly be him.
The thought of Ford being wrong had crossed his mind at one point. Then again though, he had multiple pieces of evidence in his head that would easily help defend his minor doubt. Stanford Pines was a very vigilant man, after all. He wasn't going to let this stranger get away with whatever he had planned.
Ford mixed the tea and sleeping mixture together in the mug with a spoon before placing the utensil on the counter, walking out of the kitchen and towards the living room. He poked his head into the room to see the blonde man on the couch, wrapped up in his blanket watching television. Ford furrowed his brows at his. It was unsettling to have the thought of there was a stranger making himself comfortable in his home on his mind. Did the others of the household suspect anything? Regardless, Ford gave a knock on the doorframe to alert the other that he was there before speaking.
"I finished up that tea I had mentioned." Ford informed, walking into the living room. The stranger watched the man move closer towards him, keeping his eyes on the unfamiliar object in his hand, as well as what it contained. Ford stood in front of the other man and held the tea out towards him.
"Be careful," Ford warned, "The sides are hot." He said when seeing that the blonde was going to foolishly grab the sides. The man nodded shyly, hesitantly grabbing the handle. He grabbed the mug and brought it up close to him, getting a quick whiff of the substance. Chris shrugged at seeing nothing wrong with the drink, and brought the mug up towards his lips, taking a drink.
Ford observed the other as he did so, narrowing his eyes slightly. Chris took the mug away from him slightly, sighing. After just a short bit of time, his vision had begun to go blurry. Ford noticed that the man's eyelids were droopy, and put his hands behind his back. He had no regrets for this; he needed to gin the upper-hand somehow. And besides, a stranger being in his house in such a manner just didn't settle well with him.
Within a couple of minutes, the sleeping mixture had taken over Chris enough to where he passed out, the grip he had on his mug loosening, causing the tea-filled mug to fall to the carpet. Chris gave some mumble of gibberish before collapsing to the floor, faceplanting into the carpet.
"I'm going to have some questions for you." Ford said, looking down at the unconscious man. Now that he was in control, he hoped that the man would come clean about what was happening, and where in the world Bill currently was being kept at. If not, of course, Ford had his own ways of making him talk.