Chapter Text
Stan trailed behind Ford, eyes on the brick walls of the community center. Everywhere you looked, there was more iconography of his brother's six-fingered hand, like he was Jesus or something.
Christ, this place was creepy.
"I'm glad you finally saw sense, Stanley," Ford said coolly. "You can have a good life here. You won't struggle on the streets anymore. You won't have to fight just to survive."
"Yeah..." Stan muttered in reply. He pulled the hood of his coat more firmly around his ears.
"And, maybe..." Ford murmured. He cast a look back at Stan. "Maybe you can have a chosen boy or girl of your own."
Stan shuddered. "I'm not a pedophile , Ford." Instead of frowning and chastising Stan again, Ford laughed like he knew something that Stan didn't.
"Wait a year or two." His voice was thick with amusement. A dark smirk came across his face, and Stan swallowed.
"When you see what I have, you might just change your mind."