[Ford is still exhausted, still under the influence of painkillers, and absolutely burned out from all the unexpected visits. His mind is in far better shape than it was on Neverland--there are no Shadows whispering ugly things in his ears or magnifying his impulses--but the fog of fatigue and the pills on his nightstand are weighing him down considerably.
Still...
He's a genius. His mind will always tick away relentlessly, and here in the silence of his bedroom after he's locked his door, washed up, become frustrated that he keeps trying to do things with the right hand he no longer has, calmed down, and settled into bed... he's noticing an uncomfortable presence. He tried to ignore it the entire day, but he knew it was there.
Ford's remaining limbs are so weary, he can't even lift a book to read it with the intention of relaxing before a hopefully restful sleep. He lies on his back, upper half propped up by a wall of pillows, pajamas unbuttoned to give Mikan, Alphys and Fiddleford easy access to the bandaged stump. With his last bit of energy, he removes his glasses, puts them on the nightstand, and draws the static communicator into his lap as his eyelids slide shut.
He is still conscious, but sliding slowly into the shallow waters of early sleep. Part of him tries to fight that descent, knowing full well what's waiting for him on the other side, however, his body is aching for more rest. The more he fights the need for it, the more it overtakes him. The heaviness of his body and his clouded mental state are almost worse than the presence lurking in his room.
... Almost.
He is still conscious, but barely. The veil between the waking world and the Mindscape flutters like a curtain caught in a breeze.]
I'm surprised you waited this long.
[His heartrate jumps and skips as he tries to keep his breathing level despite the stress Bill's presence puts him under. Ford is under the influence of medication, but he's certainly not being mentally and emotionally pulled apart like he'd been on the island. Next to the communicator, he balls his fist in the duvet.]
no subject
Still...
He's a genius. His mind will always tick away relentlessly, and here in the silence of his bedroom after he's locked his door, washed up, become frustrated that he keeps trying to do things with the right hand he no longer has, calmed down, and settled into bed... he's noticing an uncomfortable presence. He tried to ignore it the entire day, but he knew it was there.
Ford's remaining limbs are so weary, he can't even lift a book to read it with the intention of relaxing before a hopefully restful sleep. He lies on his back, upper half propped up by a wall of pillows, pajamas unbuttoned to give Mikan, Alphys and Fiddleford easy access to the bandaged stump. With his last bit of energy, he removes his glasses, puts them on the nightstand, and draws the static communicator into his lap as his eyelids slide shut.
He is still conscious, but sliding slowly into the shallow waters of early sleep. Part of him tries to fight that descent, knowing full well what's waiting for him on the other side, however, his body is aching for more rest. The more he fights the need for it, the more it overtakes him. The heaviness of his body and his clouded mental state are almost worse than the presence lurking in his room.
... Almost.
He is still conscious, but barely. The veil between the waking world and the Mindscape flutters like a curtain caught in a breeze.]
I'm surprised you waited this long.
[His heartrate jumps and skips as he tries to keep his breathing level despite the stress Bill's presence puts him under. Ford is under the influence of medication, but he's certainly not being mentally and emotionally pulled apart like he'd been on the island. Next to the communicator, he balls his fist in the duvet.]