Re: The Priest's Hole: Jules & Ford
Ford learned to fear church and church people. He didn't see any of the beauty of stained glass or flickering candles, and instead he just heard late night evangelists telling him about sodomy and his mother cursing Jesus. All the same, Ford figured that there must be a lot of good in church, as long as you weren't Ford Campbell. He was optimistic that way, and willing to believe good things.
Ford bent forward to listen to this additional information with interest. So far he had done his best to avoid the townspeople here, because they were bound to notice that he didn't belong. Ford's white teeth (very white and mostly straight, not because he could afford orthodontics, but because he only had one eyetooth that was a bit out of alignment, and so far nobody had mentioned the horror of wisdom teeth) flashed here, and he gave another of those chuckles--this time with some voice behind it, much lower than Jules, with the obvious implication being he had some voice to use, should he choose it.
Ford made a gesture with his closed hands like a fish swimming. Whales. He thought this was hilarious, and rocked backward as he was handed back the apple sting in the green bottle. He swigged easily. Dark curls flopped in negative. No, he wasn't from here. Ford looked stocky until you met Russell, and the comparison implied the long-limbed hunger of coyotes compared to bulky wolves; but there was a lot of pup to him now.