A heavy sigh broke the silence, travelling through the dust-filled air to the other side of the Bunker. Fiddleford raised his head in response, risking a glance behind him at Ford, whose brooding figure resumed a soft series of mutters as he sat slumped over his journal. He’d been pouring over those two pages for days now, neglecting food, sleep, and any hint of comfort Fiddleford attempted to give.
Days had blurred into weeks, and though he wasn’t sure exactly how long they’d been holed up in the Bunker together, McGucket know that the tension was turning stagnant; it wasn’t fated to last much longer. Sooner or later, one of them was bound to snap - and with the way things were going, he had a feeling he knew which of them it would be.
“Stanford…” He called softly, standing up from his chair.
“Not now, I’m busy.”
“You’ve been sayin’ that f’far too long, we’re safe here, you promised… You ca