"It means he's inconsistent," Bill repeated. "He says one thing, and acts a different way, and thinks a third." Bill rolled his eyes. "...and probably feels a fourth." But Bill had zero time or inclination to care for or about 'feelings'. As far as he was concerned, that one could be largely and most easily fixed by bouncing someone's mentality into another body that didn't have the same issues. Simple!
Miz suddenly burst out laughing and snorted out, "Ogres have layers!" before rolling onto her other side, looking a bit less like a pillbug this time.
Everyone else stared at her.
"...Layers?" Bill said, looking confused. "That Stanford doesn't have layers," he scolded Miz with a frown. "That would imply that he has depth," he added with no small disgust at that Stanford's repeated and ongoing attempts to flatten himself out unnecessarily, down from the two dimensions he was currently stuck at down EVEN FURTHER to one...
Miz was trying very hard to speak through her laughter. "B-but onions… have-- LAYERS!" she cackled wildly, rolling back and forth across the hallway flooring (using her powers near-automatically to clean it of all dust and dirt as she went). Mabel and Dipper just seemed confused.
Bill cocked his head at her. "So, your hypothesis is that that Stanford is an onion with only one layer," he restated. He lifted his head and looked away from her, and after a moment's thought, he nodded once and said: "Fair." Because that was a fair assessment.
Miz slapped at the ground, gasping for air. "... Confused-- onion!" She coughed, face red from her body spasms.
"Confused English-accented biscuit," Bill said, with a small smile. (Cookies that thought they were special in some way. Twice the calories and half the shame!)
"Overcooked! Left out in the sun too long-- so long he doesn't even realize he's gone rancid!" Miz breathed deeply, slowly calming down.
"He does have a tendency to not know when to come in out of the elements. Ever," Bill said mildly, but he was starting to grin. He waited a long moment, until Miz had almost recovered, then added, "And then fall into mud." Miz started laughing all over again. "While thinking it's butter." That sent her into paroxysms and letting out a small wheeze of "Body spasms!!!"
Dipper twitched. "I'm pretty sure you two are insulting Great-Uncle Ford…" he said, glaring down at them both from a step inside the doorway.
Bill looked over and up at Pine Tree and grinned. "Fair assessments and proper descriptors are insults?" Bill 'asked' him, with an 'innocence' that made it clear that, while he did think that what he'd said was what he was doing, he also knew exactly what he was doing.
Dipper gave Bill a flat look. "I don't know what's so funny, but I want you to stop it. You know you're being a jerk on purpose." Bill made a face, but it was a 'stop', so he stopped. (Not that he technically hadn't already stopped; he had. He just wouldn't start it up again. ...right that minute.)
Miz gasped for air, wiping at tears. "S-sorry. It just popped into my head…" She laid down flat on her back on the ground again, catching her breath. "Wow. I haven't laughed that hard in a while." She shifted sideways in the hallway a bit, then rolled onto her side, to face them. "Sorry, it was kinda mean to compare him to that, but it… would explain a lot about him."
Mabel groaned out, "I don't get it."
"Probably better that we don't," Dipper muttered.
Miz groaned and got up enough to crawl back over to the paper. "I still don't like him. He's mean," she noted, though her tone didn't sound angry, more, disappointed. "Sucks when the hot ones are jerks."
"Grunkle Ford isn't a jerk," Mabel protested, but that only got her a frown from Miz.
"...I've generally found that when I stop trying to set people on fire, they're generally less hot, even if they aren't less-jerks," Bill told Miz more seriously, almost blandly, giving her a sideways look. "You could try stopping your tries to set him on fire? As an experiment?" Bill added. "Or start wearing your glasses again."
Miz rolled her eyes. "I'm not trying to set him on fire. He just keeps adding fuel!"
"Mental attacks have an equivalent in the physical," Bill reminded her. "And you have a fiery temper." He stopped there, not thinking he needed to explain further.
Miz blinked. "Oh. I hadn't remembered that…" She frowned in thought.
Dipper and Mabel stared at her. Bill smiled. Miz sighed. "But even the stuff he says to Stan upsets me." She frowned. "It can't be good to let him do that, right?"
"Why does it upset you so much?" Bill asked her before either Dipper or Mabel could, to both their surprise. "He isn't your Zodiac. And neither is Stanley." It was clear that Bill was honestly confused on this point. He didn't particularly like it when his six-fingered hand tried to pick a verbal fight with his sister, but really, that Stanford was so bad at it that…
Miz frowned. "Mean words are mean. Even if they don't hurt Stan, I don't like hearing them. It's not nice. It's not…" She groaned and covered her face. "He keeps doing it. Thinking it's fine just because Stan's got thick skin!" (Dipper and Mabel both winced at this. They hadn't exactly been liking any of the recent fights their Grunkles had gotten into with each other, themselves.)
"So, you don't like the sound of them?" Bill tried next. "His words don't match his thoughts. Words aren't mean. Words are complex waveforms of pressure travelling through the air."
"Sticks and stones may break some bones but words will leave long lasting psychological damage that lasts a lifetime…" Miz grumbled.
"But Stanley isn't having any of that left on him," Bill pointed out. "If your objection is the impact, there isn't any." Bill frowned. "Are you objecting to… that Stanford accidentally sounding 'mean' to you?" Bill tried next. "He doesn't communicate well. Very few of my Zodiac do," Bill told her.
Miz looked tired, worried and a little sad. "I don't know how I feel. I'm not happy about it. Maybe I should ask Stan?" ("Oh boy," Dipper muttered, not very loudly, but loudly enough for Mabel to hear thim.)
Bill frowned. "Yes?" he said. "You know that you don't like hearing Stanford talk. ...to Stanley only? The thing you don't like is restricted to their conversations," Bill said, mentally backing and extracting up to something more general in trying to help her narrow it down, since she didn't seem capable of identifying it on her own, to his own line of thinking.
"That Stanford says mean things to me too. Even when I'm not trying to hurt him. I guess, it's like, if he gets to say stuff to Stan, he thinks he can say it to others too? And I don't like that?" though Miz sounded unsure of this too, being unable to articulate her feelings on this matter.
"That doesn't sound right…" Mabel said, but she sent a confused glance at Dipper, who was frowning. (...Was the demons being around making their Grunkle's and Great-Uncle's fighting worse? Or vice-versa? Dipper wasn't sure, but… the two demons sure weren't helping things any.)
Bill thought on this. "Too soon to draw conclusions, but remember that as a hypothesis, perhaps." Bill was frowning slightly, eyes narrowed, deep into mathematical thought processes at the moment. (He had a slightly different cadence and accent to his tone as he talked now.) "Pattern: Stanford talking to you and Stanley." He thought for a moment. "Myself also? Or no?"
Miz narrowed her eyes. "He says mean stuff to you, too."
"Bill usually says the mean stuff first," Mabel pointed out, which Bill simply shrugged and waved off at the same time.
"Do you not-like-hearing the 'mean stuff said' by that Stanford, when you hear it said to each of the three of us, in the same not-like-hearing way? For Stanley, you, and myself?" Bill asked her, still thinking, before looking up at her.
Miz nodded. She turned to the twins. "Like, how they didn't like hearing us laugh at Ford, even though he's not here to be hurt by it?" she pointed out. She could at least understand that one, once she thought about it.
"They thought we were thinking mean things on purpose and sharing them to laugh at his stupidity, and we were," Bill drawled out with a smile. (Which got an annoyed "Hey!!" from Dipper, and a frown from Mabel.)
Miz shrugged. "I actually thought it was funny, not mean. But they still didn't like it."
"You were laughing while I was being mean, liking the mean things I was saying. That implies meanness in your behavior to humans." Bill shrugged. (The twins glanced between them. Because was Bill actually…?)
Miz nodded. "Which I apologized for afterward." She winced.
"And if I did it again, you'd laugh at it again," Bill pointed out with a grin. "I believe that is what these Pines call an 'insincere apology'."
Miz sat up straight in understanding. "Oooh! Wow. I'm such an asshole." she gasped in realization. Well, she already knew this fact, but to have Bill point it out in such a simple way was...
"Uh, yeah," Mabel said, not so pleased at hearing that Miz was gonna continue to laugh meanly at one of her two favorite grunkles, when Bill said nasty stuff about them.
Bill let out a laugh. "HA! --Embrace it!"
"--No," Dipper said quickly. "Don't embrace it. Do the opposite thing of embracing it!" He was looking between the two of them worriedly.
"I want to do the opposite thing. But I don't know how?" (Bill let out a huff of breath at that.) Miz frowned. "I don't realize it half the time until someone starts crying. And then I feel bad later."
"Think about how you would feel if Grunkle Ford were saying it to you, or doing it to you, first?" Mabel tried hopefully, glancing over at Dipper, who was pulling down on his cap again. (At least she felt bad about it later?)
Mabel frowned. To Mabel, it was simple. If Miz didn't like things like that happening to her, then she shouldn't do them to other people! It was the Golden Rule.
"Do unto others as you would have them do unto you," was Dipper's contribution to the conversation, after letting go of his cap.
But to this, Miz just shrugged. "I'd think it was funny, to be compared to an onion," she told the two younger twins. "Also, that's a misquote. The actual saying, translated literally is 'Don't do to others what you don't want them to do to you'." Miz pointed out. She was pretty sure it was attributed to Confucious, and even if people seemed to value his sayings, she personally thought Confucious was full of shit about most things. Heck, he thought a husband and wife shouldn't be allowed to walk down the same street together.
"Wasn't trying to quote anybody," Dipper muttered. Miz tilted her head. "But that's what the so-called golden rule is." She paused and then backtracked. "But I can try harder? But if I start to mess up, just yell 'stop' so I know I'm doing something wrong?" She looked down and frowned. "Sometimes I know what I'm doing wrong, but most of the time I just don't understand. I don't think things through before I do them all the time." (Bill let out a singular laugh -- because he'd noticed that! She was still young, though.) She frowned. "No one's really corrected me on my behavior in eons."
The twins glanced at each other. "So, you mean you've been awful a bunch of times and no-one's ever called you out on it in ages?" Dipper asked carefully. And she knew this and did it anyway? (...Just because she knew she could get away with it? --That wasn't okay!)
Miz nodded. "I think they're too afraid to discipline me properly..." ("Good," said Bill.) Miz winced. "The only real authority in my life is my dad and Jessie. Dad is very hands off with his parenting and I don't see Jessie very often. Though I guess my friends have sometimes told me when I'm not doing something right?"
Mabel frowned. "So… all your bad habits and behavior got worse over the years because no one ever scolded you for it?" she asked carefully, because did that mean…?
"No one ever dared to try and--" Miz choked and said a word that seemed to be in a foreign language before gagging, and Dipper and Mabel both flinched. (Bill flicked his eyes over to her, then away again.)
'Oh, man,' thought Dipper, because that settled it. No one had dared to try and hit Miz, and because of that she didn't feel like she had been 'disciplined'. Dipper sat down next to his sister and glanced over at her.
Mabel bit her lip as she glanced back at her brother and leaned into his shoulder. ...She probably didn't feel 'disciplined' by other people telling her stuff was wrong to do, because Miz's human parents had probably hit her when she did bad, instead of just sitting down and explaining things by talking to her like they should have done it. That was what Mabel thought; and she really didn't want to ask Miz to clarify that one, because if she did… it was the Bill-going-overboard problem all over again.
"I mean, I've had people try to kill me for stuff I've done, but that's not the same," Miz groaned. "Since people try to kill me even when I'm not doing anything bad. Like when I was just going out to a restaurant with my friends--"
"--Stop," said Bill, and… wow. Wow. Bill was looking a little green around the gills, almost. And his breathing was definitely off. ...Aaaand he'd just reached out and pulled Miz over to him with an 'eep' out of her with zero warning, pulling her right up in-between his knees and practically into his lap, arms settling in around her almost like a cage. Woah. Dipper stared at this. He heard Bill mumble out something that sounded a little like 'mine' at Miz, too.
"Ummmmmmmmm," Miz said a little uncertainly, because her brother almost never instigated hugs or contact or anything himself -- not first. If he'd moved any faster, or pulled or held onto her any tighter… but he hadn't. He'd been gentle about it, and almost a little slow, but...
"Mine," Bill muttered out at her, down by her ear. "No dying anymore, EVER. Not. allowed. --Understand?" He did not sound all that happy with her or anyone else just then.
"...kay…" Miz said quietly, feeling guilty because part of her knew that she wasn't going to be able to not die. She got shot at a lot. And exploded sometimes. But she always came back. Even when she didn't want to.
"My sister, mine," Bill said, slowly uncurling from around her a little bit, but not all that much.
"...Um. Bill?" Mabel said slowly. She'd never seen this before, not even when Dipper and Grunkle Ford weren't around. She'd never seen him look this upset. He was practically hiding his face in Miz's hair, on the other side of her head away from them both, but it was obvious from the way he was sitting that he was...
"...sorry…" Miz nuzzled against her brother's cheek softly.
Bill breathed and tried not to think about Liam too hard just then, and breathed and tried not to think about what he wanted to do to all the people who had ever DARED to try and lay a hand on his sister, let alone KILL her, and breathed he couldn't do anything at all about it YET, because he didn't know how to make Doors on his own yet, so he couldn't yet--, and breathed some more but he ABSOLUTELY could once he did. And he would. He would.. And he slowly began to seem more outwardly calm. ...Slowly.
"...Okay," Dipper said slowly. "Well, nobody's gonna try to kill you here... unless you try to kill people first, not just insult them -- just like Grunkle Stan talked about with the agreement and stuff." Dipper sent a long look Bill's way. "And we're gonna tell you what is mean to us." Dipper said firmly. "And insulting Great-Uncle Ford is mean."
Miz sighed. "Ok. I will try harder to not do that." She frowned. "I just can't help but snipe back when he snaps at me first. Even when I was just trying to be nice…"
The twins sighed. "Well, you kinda insulted him again when you were trying to apologize." Dipper groaned. Miz looked surprised at that, which only made Dipper feel like he would get a headache if he tried to explain "Look, just, don't talk to him? Or just, be the bigger person and don't snap back…?" though Dipper winced even as he said it. Right. Like she was gonna do that.
Miz sighed. "Fine. I'm just gonna ignore him then." Which meant she'd just never be able to apologize to him. ...Well, if he wasn't going to even TRY to accept her apology then… screw him. She didn't need to try anymore.
Miz frowned. "I'll ask Stan tonight."
Bill lifted his head away from her shoulder a little. "Ask Stanley what?"
"About how I don't like how Ford talks to him. And why he won't stop Ford from doing so." Miz muttered. And at that, Bill let out a sigh. "Little sis. Stanley doesn't care."
"But can I ask to make sure?" Miz fiddled with her fingers. Bill rolled his eyes. "If you want to waste your time," he told her, uncurling away from her a bit further (but not dropping the cage of his arms and legs around her just yet).
Dipper and Mabel looked at each other. "Why do you care so much what Great-Uncle Ford says to Grunkle Stan?" Dipper asked, frowning slightly.
Miz looked somewhat irritated. "Siblings shouldn't talk to each other like that, even if they aren't upset by it. And he's not even--" Miz closed her mouth, frowning.
Bill had raised a hand closer to her lips warningly at her near slip. He slowly lowered it again when she stopped on her own.
"...Not even what?" Dipper said suspiciously.
Miz sighed and decided to try and handle the question by side-stepping the question, sort of -- answering it in a different and still truthful way, with a very different topic than what she'd been about to say, instead. "He's not even being sincere with his real feelings. I know Ford loves Stan. Siblings shouldn't say mean things to each other. If Ford was just teasing Stan light-heartedly, that's one thing, but he's not teasing. He's being deliberately caustic."
Mabel sighed. "But it's fine. They're just talking. Siblings can argue sometimes!" She had to believe that. ...And she was right, she had to be! The way they'd been hugging down in Grunkle Ford's room after the DDNMD game had been… they had to have made up completely, from the last fight they'd seen!
Miz still didn't really like it, but she kept quiet about it for now. She played with the paper in her hands for a bit before sighing. "I'm tired. Getting upset always makes me feel tired." She slowly got to her feet -- Bill let her go immediately, before she even managed to bump up against his arms -- and Miz rubbed her face. "I think I want to go to bed now…"
"Then we'll go to bed now," Bill said, sliding back to shove his back against the wall, then slowly standing himself.
Dipper and Mabel looked at each other as Miz wandered off down the hallway towards the next flight of stairs, the older dream demon only a step or so behind her.
"She's not gonna drop it, is she," Dipper asked his sister, already knowing the answer, even before Mabel shook her head. Dipper let out a breath. Great. --Why couldn't the demons just stop sniping at their Great-Uncle Ford?!
Dipper helped Mabel grab up the rest of the supplies sitting in the doorway and hallway, and then elbowed the door shut behind them. (It was getting pretty close to their bedtime as well.)
---
Bill wasn't stupid, either. He could tell that Miz didn't want to leave things where they stood as well, even as her steps got slower and slower, dragging more and more. And he could tell that Miz wouldn't be able to settle down until she talked to Stan about at least some of it.
Bill wanted to sleep, but he wanted her to be able to sleep well, too. And some things were just more important.
So Bill sighed and reached out his hand as she came to a stop at the bottom step of the final staircase, and he ruffled her hair just a little. "Little sis, if you really want to talk to Stanley tonight, we should go now before he's asleep. Waking him up after will not be conducive to getting your questions answered by him tonight."
"...kay…" Miz mumbled.
---
Stan was preparing for bed when he heard a knock on his door. "Hey Stan?" he heard Miz's voice from behind it. The old man raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah?" he asked, as he finished pulling on his nightshirt. Didn't the kid want Miz to not be alone with him?
"Miz said she wanted to ask you something," Stan heard the kid's voice say next, sounding a bit more muffled. ...Yeah, okay. She wasn't alone then.
"What d'ya wanna ask?" Stan grunted as he got into bed, not wanting to get up and have a long conversation right then. Bill could come in whenever, kid still had his bed in here, but Miz required an invitation. If the kid thought this was important enough to want to open the door for her, then fine… and Bill did open the bedroom door. The kid was leaning with his back against the doorframe, arms crossed. ...Yeah, okay. Kid wasn't invested in the conversation one bit, but he seemed to think this was important enough not to wait 'til morning on. Fine.
Stan watched Miz shuffle her feet before she started, "The way that Stanford talks to you--" Stan sighed heavily. Hell, not this thing again.
"Kid, I told you already. I don't care. I've got thick skin. Gonna take more than some 'mean'-sounding words to get to me." Seriously. The hell.
"But you shouldn't let him say things like that to you anyway," Miz insisted.
Stan groaned a little as he sat up in bed. "I told you kid, I don't mind."
Miz made a frustrated sound. "But I mind! I don't… I don't like listening to him talk bad about you!" Stan rubbed a hand across his face. Yeah, she'd already said that the first time. Why were they having this conversation again?
"How is this a problem?" Stan asked her, because there had to be a reason she was bringing this up again, right?
"The fact that he can get away with saying things that are meant to hurt people, even if they don't hurt you, doesn't change the fact that he's saying bad things," Miz said next, and welp, that was completely wrong. "But you don't stop him. You let him do it. And then he starts thinking it's ok for him to keep saying things like that to other people too!" And Stan watched with zero amusement as Miz actually stomped her foot against the floor, right in front of him. "So he says things to hurt brother or ME and no one stops him! So if I say mean things to him, that's bad but he is constantly all but calling me a monster to my FACE and everyone is FINE with that?!"
Okay, yeah. No. Stan leaned forward where he was sitting. "Kid, that ain't--" he began, about to point out everything wrong with what she'd just said, but Miz overrode him.
"--And I know he's right, at least a little. I KNOW I'm an asshole. But it's not like I'm a complete monster! I don't go around killing people because I think it's fun or… or torturing people because I enjoy their pain. At most I like to mess with people but I'm not hurting them!" Yeah, Stan knew how this was gonna go. Kid got ranty about Ford sometimes, too. So Stan sat back in bed, crossed his arms, and waited her out.
"I don't go around wanting to hurt people just because I think they don't deserve to be happy!" she cried. "But HE does that all the time and somehow that's fine?!"
Stan watched her for awhile, as she looked tired and frustrated and… was even a little sniffly, geez. Dragon-lady was really upset over what Ford had said to her? Really? ...Hell.
Stan sighed.
"What are you wantin' me to do, Miz?" he asked her tiredly. It was way too late at night for this crap, honestly.
Miz sniffled again. "Why don't you tell him that it's not nice to say bad things about others? He dishes it out constantly but he can't take it if anyone says anything about HIM. If he's gonna do that all the time without any penalties, he's just gonna keep doing it. Am I supposed to just… let him talk shit about me without fighting back?"
Stan sighed. He debated whether or not he should actually explain this to the two of them or not. "You can't just ignore him?" If she'd just stop tryin' to talk at Ford, then...
"He's a bully!" Miz complained. "Isn't behavior like that something you should be stopping?" Miz asked. "It's not fair."
Stan gave her a long look and repeated, "What are you wantin' me to do."
Miz bit her lip. "Just tell Ford to stop talking bad about you.
Stan blinked. "But I don't care."
Miz scowled. "That's not the point! You shouldn't LET him talk bad about you!
Stan rubbed a hand across his face. "Miz," he said, dropping his hand. "I told you. He ain't tryin' to hurt me. You know how he was feeling before, when he first said that junk." (Miz pouted.) "Are you really all that upset because you think he's trying to hurt me?" he said, giving her a long glare, which she wilted under. "Yeah. You aren't. So stop lyin' about it," he told, her, sitting back in bed and resituating himself a little bit. "Now. Are you upset because you think he's trying to hurt you?"
...Miz looked very angry and hurt, as she nodded at him once.
Stan let out a long sigh and looked away from her for a moment. Hell. He really didn't want to have to explain this. Especially not in front of the kid; he was tryin' to get the kid to figure stuff like this out on his own, actually talk to Ford and…
...that wasn't gonna happen anytime soon. And Miz was being a problem now. Hell.
"Okay, Miz. You really want me to explain this to you, right now?" Stan told her. "Because you ain't gonna like it." He sent a long hard look her way. "Because I'll be telling you exactly every last thing you've been thinkin' and doing wrong," he ground out at her, "And if you screw this up again after I explain it to you, you'll be getting a hell of a lot of penalties for this shit you keep on pulling, because you won't have any more excuses for gettin' it wrong anymore."
Stan crossed his arms at her. "I've been lettin' you try and figure out a lot of this yourself, learning it on your own so you'll learn it better, and letting you make mistakes as you go without any real blowback, up until now," Stan told her. "And so has Ford," he told Miz, to a skeptical look from the dragon-lady. "So either you actually listen to what I already told you about Ford not tryin' to hurt me, and keep on tryin' to understand why I'm right about Ford by not talkin' with Ford and tryin' to pay attention to him instead..."
Stan gave her a hard look. "And I mean actually doin' that instead of deciding I'm wrong for no reason, and tryin' to tell me how I'm all wrong with no argument and no facts to back you up--" Miz opened her mouth to cut him off, but Stan rolled right over her, "--because I already told you that you're wrong about those things and you know you are wrong about it…" Stan told her, glaring at her outright. There was a long pause as Miz looked combative but didn't say anything.
"...Or?" Bill prompted him from the side of the doorway. ...Yeah, kid was definitely on his side on this one, here. If Stan hadn't known that before, that would've been the big honking neon glowing sign right there and then for it.
"Or," Stan continued, "She gets hammered with it now," Stan told them both authoritatively, "Every last thing she's been getting wrong and acting like a dumb idiot about," Stan elaborated harshly, as he kept on glaring at Miz. "Choose."
Miz was staring at him, wide-eyed and looking shocked. Bill had his head half-cocked towards him, clearly listening in, though his eyes were lazy half-slits as he looked over his shoulder Stan's way.
"...Might want to wait 'til morning to ask him more questions first, and then choose," Bill told his little sister. "You got him in bed, all late. He's tired and angry now. You choose the second one, he will hit you with it," Bill warned her mildly, looking down at her from above, pose relaxed, arms crossed, no grin in sight. "And I will let him do it," Bill added next, just as calmly and smoothly.
Miz glanced between the two of them, looking unsure.
"You wanna talk this out with your brother first?" Stan asked her in his usual gravelly tones, handing her the easy out. (Kid was right, though. He was pissed right now, and he wouldn't be holding back much if she said she wanted to go with the hammer.)
Miz sighed. "Should I… wait for tomorrow. If that might be better?" She looked unsure.
Stan snorted. "Better for you," Stan told her. "I'm fine with either." He wasn't some bleeding saint, and he didn't care all that much if he hurt her feelings. There was a hell of a lot that Miz had done since she'd been here that had been trying every last nerve. (The kid, too, but the kid was a hell of a lot more careful about things, usually, when he actually realized that he needed to be. The only reason Stan had been trying to be halfway civil with either of them most of the time at all was because the kid was actually trying, Miz was actually good for the kid… most of the time, and both of them were immortal stone-cold killers; Stan wasn't stupid. He wasn't gonna piss off a couple of demons for no good reason and risk them hurting the kids (or worse), whether they meant to hurt them or not while they were going after him. 'Collateral damage' wasn't a pretty phrase.)
Miz slumped, looking tired. "Sometimes I think I understand… and then I realize I'm not understanding anything at all…" Well hey, at least that was kind of almost some sort of progress? Stan pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Choose tonight? Or tomorrow," Stan repeated.
Miz bit her lip. "Back when I was human, my friends had to be really blunt with me before I understood stuff. I always thought that maybe I'm just… slow. Maybe blunt would be more effective. Even if it might be… harsher." She took a deep breath, as if trying to brace herself and glanced at him with a nod to go ahead and tell her the harsh truth now.
(Stan absently noted that at no point during this conversation, had Miz ever really met either of their eyes -- his or Bill's. She'd kept her gaze around their mouths or noses, if she even bothered to raise her eyes high enough to reach their face. Actually, now that Stan thought about it, Miz never seemed to do much eye contact. Seemed almost uncomfortable with doing so.)
"Gotta hear you say it, Miz," Stan told her. "You really want me to hammer you with this tonight? Right now?"
Miz nodded. "Yeah. I want to hear it. I want to try and understand." She curled her hands around the edge of her shirt, holding herself. "I don't want to run away from this, just because it might upset me."
Well, alright then. Stan glared at her.
"Bill, if you give her permission to enter this bedroom this one time, then so will I," Stan said. "I ain't talking to the two of you while you're out in the hallway, there," he told them, "And I don't want anyone else listening in on this." (For starters, Ford would get entirely the wrong idea, with the way he was gonna have to put this for the demons to actually get it.)
Miz looked up at Bill. Bill slowly turned his head to look down at her.
After a long moment, the kid said, "Are you sure you want to do this right now."
"Yes," said Miz.
After another long moment, the kid said, "...I give my permission for you to enter this room once, right now, just for tonight."
"Same," Stan grunted out. He watched as the two of them crossed the threshold, entering the room. He waited for the kid to close the door behind them.
And then…
"--I'm not an idiot," Stan ground out at Miz immediately and ruthlessly. "Your real problem is that you don't like it when Ford says stuff about you that you don't like to hear, because it's got some truth to it -- which is why it hurts," Stan told her. "You know it, and I know it. The only reason you keep complaining to me about it, saying you don't like it when Ford 'says mean things about me' is because you think that maybe if you keep at me long enough, you'll make me start thinking about some of the stuff he's said enough that I'll start getting angry about some of it. And then you think that'll make me mad enough to go off and tell him to stop saying stuff like that, for myself -- and for you, because you think I'll go overboard and tell him to stop sayin' this stuff to anybody at all -- since you don't see me doin' it for you. --You ain't bein' honest about any of this junk at all, and we both know it," Stan ground out at her, glaring.
Stan paused to let that sink in for a minute. "Ford don't say stuff to me because he's tryin' to hurt me, and you know it. He says that stuff, because he's tryin' to do the opposite; he thinks I'll get hurt if he doesn't tell me. He thinks I'll do something stupid if he doesn't warn me, or do something bad that might have the kids hating me before I even know it, or even do something that he doesn't know if he'll be able to forgive," Stan told her. "My brother gets angry, and upset, and he actually tells me to my face what he is thinking and doing and feeling, and I am never going to tell him to stop doing that. I want him to tell me those things!" Stan told Miz. "Because the day he stops doing that, is the day he stops caring about me anymore."
"But he's your brother! He should be nice to you," Miz said belligerently.
"Family and friends ain't just there to 'be nice to you', Miz," Stan told her. "They're there to have your back. --And sometimes that's 'telling it like it is', like you see it, and smacking somebody upside the head, over and over again, until they see sense! Ford's a nerd, so he does it with words instead of fists, mostly," Stan noted, then added, "But he's worried sick about me, and he really, honestly thinks that he's right and I'm wrong, and that I'm gonna, I don't know, walk myself off of a metaphorical cliff, or something. Or maybe even an actual one," Stan said with a grimace, "Unless he does something about it by saying something to me about it." Stan sighed.
"My brother is also an adult," Stan told her next. "I don't 'let' him do anything. He says what he wants. He does what he wants. He makes his own decisions on junk. --Which is what he should do. Because he is a grown man who makes his own damn decisions. I ain't 'in charge' of him. I don't tell him what to do or not do," Stan told her, "Because I shouldn't be. I don't order you around, and I don't order him neither. And if you think that I am, then you ain't hearin' me right. --If you ever hear me telling Ford something and it sounds like I'm tellin' him what to do? That's just me bein' forceful, because I don't go around sayin'…" Stan grimaced again. "...Y'know, the p-word to people," Stan said with an ugh-ewww-shudder. He shook himself, then got back to the point. "And whether Ford's callin' me out on a bunch of stuff lately or not doesn't make him any more or less likely to call you out on things, too," Stan told Miz next. "We're two different people. And Ford isn't a bully. --He's the opposite of that," he told her, to Miz's look of complete disbelief.
"But then why does he keep on saying bad things--!!" Miz complained.
"--Demon-lady, Ford ain't saying 'bad things'," Stan told her, and this, hell, this was the thing that he'd finally figured out completely now, and damn if it didn't piss him off that much more on top of everything else. Why hadn't Ford just told him-- Hell, of course Ford couldn't admit it, he probably didn't realize half of what he'd been doing himself. (Not in any way that Ford would want to admit to himself, because he would've felt stupid realizing he was doing it. Because the way he thought about 'demons' was...)
"Ford never says 'bad things'," Stan repeated. "And if you -- or me, or hell, even your brother over there," Stan added, nodding to the kid, "-- asked him what he was doin', he'd say to any one of us that he's saying 'necessary things', instead. Y'know, for a reason," Stan stressed. "Sure, he might snap at Bill, because they've got history," Stan said, because he knew that much, at least. "And a lot of times, the kid will snap right back. No harm; no foul. As long as there ain't no harm." He sent a long look the kid's way, before turning back to Miz. "And Ford might get brutally honest and angry with me, because he knows I'm safe to get mad at, because he's my brother, and he knows I'll know what he's trying to say, and why he's saying it. He trusts me to get that. But with you? --Kid, you've got the wrong end of the stick," Stan told her, shaking his head, and he almost felt bad for her for it. (Almost.) Because this was just damn sad, what he'd finally figured out about what was really going on between her and his brother. And, hell, even the kid himself, to some extent. Because his brother, hell, he just couldn't leave well enough alone ever, now could he?
"Ford ain't tellin' you stuff just to try and hurt you because he hates you and wants to see you suffer, to walk away and leave you lying there bleeding," Stan told her, which he'd known all along, but that wasn't the kicker -- not by a long shot. The damn stupid thing of it all was that, "He's tellin' you stuff because he's tryin' to make you feel guilt. Because he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if you feel guilty enough, you might actually try and change a little bit, and stop doing those guilt-making things," Stan told her, because his brother had damn well known the dragon-lady wasn't whatever kind of demon he'd thought she was, even before he'd really realized he was wrong about it. Just like the kid.
"Ford don't go around torturing people for fun; he's not like that. That kinda thing would make him feel sick; he'd probably throw up first," Stan told her, glaring. "He's tellin' you stuff that makes you real damn uncomfortable, and it's uncomfortable to you because at least some of it hits home with you. --If he was completely off the mark, you'd just write him off as some kinda lunatic, and just be able to ignore him," Stan told her. "But I can tell he ain't completely off the mark with you -- either because he's right, he's close to it, or you're afraid that he's right, and all you can think of to do back to him is say 'mean stuff' right back, because you're angry at him for it, and you do want him to hurt. --And every time you do that, you're proving him right," Stan told her.
"No, I'm not--!!" Miz protested.
"Yes, you are," Stan told her.
"--I'm just defending myself!" Miz ended, looking frustrated and angry.
"Oh, you're getting defensive, all right," Stan said. "And every time you go sniping right back at him, to hurt him, because you don't like what he said, you're proving to him that you are exactly the kind of demon that he's been tryin' to warn me about: somebody who doesn't care about others, who lashes out because they like to hurt other people, and who thinks that everything is a game. Because every time you do that, you don't care about others, because you aren't caring that me and the kids don't want Ford hurt, and you aren't caring that you're mentally attacking Ford when you do that, and putting your brother in a really bad position, what with the agreement we've got going on," Stan told her.
"But--" Miz began.
Stan didn't want to hear it, whatever excuses she had for thinking what she was doing was somehow okay; he just verbally bulldozed right over her. (...And the kid? The kid didn't even try to stop him.)
"--You are lashing out because you like to hurt other people," Stan told her, and did she think he hadn't noticed this one? "Because you are enjoying making Ford hurt because, for some stupid reason, you actually think he deserves it. And you are treating this whole thing like it's some kind of game," Stan ground out nastily. "Like there's some kind of scoreboard just sitting off to the side, where each of you are scoring points against each other -- always having to hit back every single time, because you just have to win 'that round' or 'that exchange' with him. Acting like it's some kind of contest in who can hurt who the worst." Stan firmed his jaw. "When you're completely missing the point, because what my brother is actually trying to do, is help you to be a better person," Stan told her.
"He's not trying to help me!" Miz scoffed, and the kid was just standing there, blinking.
"Yeah, he is," Stan stressed to her. "A better, decent human being. --Just because he's crap at it, doesn't mean that's not what he's tryin' to do," Stan told her. "And he's doin' it despite the fact that he thinks you're a demon and that the whole thing is probably 'absolutely futile'," Stan ground out, sitting back in his bed. "He started out actually trying, here and there, and now he's down to a token effort. --He's been getting real frustrated with you lately, Miz, and he's damn near given up on you by this point," Stan told her, "Because instead of trying to prove him wrong by your actions, you just run around saying a bunch of junk that's either completely wrong or a lie, or something that you just can't back up. And you do it all without even thinking about why he's saying what he's saying to you in the first place!"
"But he calls me a liar!" Miz protested. "That's not fair! He doesn't believe anything that I'm saying! Even when I'm trying to be truthful!"
"And the way to prove him wrong is not to snap back right away at him when he says it! --Take a deep breath, and back the hell off!" Stan growled out at her gravelly. "You want to prove him wrong? You really, really do? --You ask him why he's sayin' what he's sayin' to you," Stan told her. "You ask, until you're certain you understand why he's comin' at you like that. Why he's sayin' what he's sayin'. Whatever he saw or heard you do that set him off. Because believe me," Stan told her, "Ford's pretty damn sensitive to bad demon-behavior after thirty-three years of getting 'played' by that asshole brother of yours," Stan tossed a thumb Bill's way. "My brother will be able to tell you exactly what you're doing all demon-y and wrong, and why. --And if what Ford's sayin' just boils down to an 'I don't trust you' instead? Because he's been burned horribly before? Don't just go shrugging him off," Stan warned her. "Because that one might mean that you're doin' the right thing, almost," Stan told her, "And Ford can't quite figure out what the catch is. Probably because he's seen something like that go real bad before. --Means you're probably bein' selfish in some way that just ain't right," Stan explained. "Or setting up somebody else to have to trust or depend on you later, which could go really wrong."
Stan frowned. "--Easiest way to talk Ford down on that one is probably to offer up some other options," Stan told her. "Make it so that whatever he's worried about? Either has some negative thing for you if things went wrong, that he realizes you actually would care about being a thing -- which, y'know, is kinda a crapshoot at this point, since right now he's actually worried that you might be pulling one over on the kid at this point," Stan told her with a sigh, rubbing a hand across his face, before dropping it to his lap again. "--Or," Stan continued, "You come up with some way that whatever the hell is going on can get fixed or go okay or whatever? Without you doing the whatever, or needing to be part of it at all. So that he don't have to depend on you. So that things might be okay even if you tried to mess around with things to break 'em. And you talk it all through with him before doing anything first."
"I don't know how I can do that," Miz said with no small frustration, and yeah, that was kind of the problem.
"I know you don't," Stan said gruffly, and he was pretty much done with this whole mess at this point. "That's why you should actually talk it out with Ford." Stan glowered at her. "Without trying to hurt him. And actually apologizing and damn well meaning it if you do!" Stan glared at her. "Ford's got reasons to be wary of you. You broke his brain less than twenty-four hours after jumping into our dimension here again, when nobody asked you to come," Stan told her. "The kid might be thrilled that you're here, but even he didn't know you were coming," Stan told her. "I had no time to talk to the kid about any of this. Ford didn't have any warning of any more demons coming in. I didn't even have a chance to try and ease him into any of it. --So you were in the middle of being chased by a big scary whatever, and you needed to get away from it; fine -- nobody's sayin' you shouldn't have hit whatever escape hatch you needed to, when you needed to do it. --But that still don't change any of that other stuff. I still didn't get any warning, and none of us had any time to prepare." Stan let out a hard breath through his nose.
"--And the kids?" Stan continued, glowered at her. "Most of the stuff you've said to me, or to Ford, when the kids either weren't around or couldn't hear you? Was some really horrible stuff, Miz. --I can handle it," Stan said. "But Ford's seen too much of it, to not want to just claw somebody to pieces, just to not have to hear about any more of that kind of horrible stuff anymore. And it ain't good for the kids to be exposed to that kind of horrible, neither -- from either of you," Stan said, including the kid in that one. "It ain't right," Stan said. "And neither of you seem to be able to tell the difference. --You want to know why Ford bristles every single time either of you two open your damn mouths? That's why," Stan informed them curtly. "You're shoving a bunch of horrible into two thirteen-year-old teenagers' brains, that no kid should ever have to hear, handle, or try and cope with."
"But… some of that is just stuff that happened to me when I was a human," Miz said. Didn't that mean it was 'normal' to talk about?
"I know," Stan said. "And it was horrible. It shouldn't have happened to you. It was bad, and messed up, and wrong," Stan said, as simply as he could, hoping he'd maybe be able to get through to her here. "Do you really want to try and repeat that stuff out to Dipper and Mabel, making them have to go through all that, too? All those horrible things? Any of them? Even a little? By hearing you talk about it?" Stan asked her, because she actually did seem to genuinely care about the kids, even if she couldn't manage it in more than a younger-kid like way herself. "--Or maybe even traumatizing them with it?"
"...no," Miz said quietly. She didn't think that would happen, did it work like that? She didn't know this...
"You need a therapist," Stan told her. "The kids? --Are not therapists," he told her firmly. "They can't handle this shit. And they shouldn't have to! Ford's got a bunch of horrible from beyond the portal that he doesn't talk about, for reasons," Stan told Miz. He knew that, even if he didn't really know (and only had a really good guess at this point at) what those reasons were. "And I've got ten years of horrible that I never tell the kids about, either, and never will," Stan told her. "And hey. My own Pa -- that guy you hate so much? Wish you had permission from me to carve out his eyeballs? -- y'know, he had a bunch of 'war buddies' over one night at the house once, for cards," Stan told her. "I was eleven, and I was pretty sure there wasn't gonna be any card playing," Stan said, "Because there were no cards or chips out at the kitchen table, just whiskey. --And my pa, he shooed me and my brother upstairs," Stan told her. "I didn't listen; I snuck back downstairs again after Ford fell asleep. I wanted to hear some of those 'great' 'adventurous' war stories. And I sure did overhear something one of his war buddies was saying. And then something my Pa said next. And something after that." Stan pulled in a breath.
"--I'm not gonna repeat any of it," Stan told her. And he'd tell her not to go trying to look it up, too, if he didn't know full well that she had probably done that already. "But my mom found me at the bottom of the stairs there; she'd gone to check up on us two. She wasn't listening in on them; she had better sense, and I'd still thought war and all that bein' a hero stuff must be exciting." Stan sighed. He'd been such a dumb little kid, back then. "But she caught me too late; I had nightmares about all that stuff for a week." And Stan shook his head at his younger self. "After that? My Pa never had them over again. Not in the house. They found someplace else to meet; don't know where. --Yeah, the guy kicked me outta the house and outta the family at seventeen, disowned me, the whole nine yards, did that," Stan told Miz. "Even he thought that that was too much. Him. --He thought that me listening in on that stuff was unacceptable. Just listenin' in on what they'd had to live through, and barely survived -- if you can call that 'surviving'," Stan said almost darkly.
Stan let out a breath, and he leaned back a bit in bed. "I may have seen a lot of horrible after that, but none of it was really like that; not really." The war stuff? Had been an almost impersonal kind of madness, do anything you could to survive, fight like an animal, the whole nine. (And some of the things Stan had managed to live through? ...Well, maybe the second part of that was like that, but none of it had ever been impersonal. Almost all of it had been pretty damn deliberate, instead.)
Wasn't sure if that made it all that better or worse, but… well. Stan was fine. He'd survived. He was a survivor. He'd survived it all, and turned his life around. ...Eventually.
"...he calls me a monster," Miz complained quietly under her breath.
"Miz," Stan said, with a heaping boatload of exasperation, and no small anger, "You broke my brother's brain, and couldn't even feel sorry about it; didn't even try to for days. You say stuff that makes the kid laugh because he thinks it's 'hilarious', and has the kids covering their ears and telling you to stop! You've got me feeling angry enough to want to punch you in the face as hard as I did your brother, more times than I wanna count -- because you keep hurting my family -- and the only reason I don't do it is because I know it won't make anything better, and I've got a hell of a lot more self-control than Ford can even guess at," he ground out at Miz (and at Bill, who looked a bit pale upon hearing this -- and yeah, well, maybe the kid should be worried; he hadn't been doin' a very good job of keeping his 'little sister' in-line). "You're less than one step away from messing with them, instead. You ain't actually trying to kill them -- or worse -- which is the only reason why I'm not trying to kill YOU right now, right this second." Stan glared at her. "What the hell do you think a monster is."
Miz was staring at him. So was the kid.
Stan let out a breath, trying to pull it all back in. (He had his fists clenched in the bedsheets.)
"...I think that Miz can ask you more tomorrow," the kid said slowly, "If you are not done right now." It wasn't a statement; it was a question.
"Yeah," said Stan, with a good bit of barely held-in anger. "Probably a good idea."
The kid showed himself and his little sister out. At least Miz looked like she was actually thinking about stuff, which was something.
And Bill closed the door behind him.
...It took Stan a couple minutes before he could let go of the bedsheets, and the part of the mattress that he'd gripped. It took him that long to remind himself of all the reasons why he shouldn't try and kill the kid, or his little sister.
---
Miz was quiet all the way back upstairs and while she was settling in to sleep. Bill was quiet too, thinking over everything he'd learned tonight from Stan, about how close Miz must have come to having him accidentally breaking the mutual nonaggression agreement (...multiple times?) because he hadn't realized... in order to stop her from doing something (or not-doing something else?), and everything else. Because Stanley wouldn't lie about something like that, and Stanley had been angry.
Bill watched his little sister curl up on some blankets and pillows, hugging Iseblonker to herself. She wasn't speaking but her eyes were far off, sad and lost in thought. Bill laid down beside her -- not back-to-back like usual, but flat on his back this time -- and slid over to press his side up against her, an arm curling up around her head from above.
Eventually, Miz started humming softly. The tune was a little somber.
Miz had never realized half the things Stan had pointed out. How hadn't she noticed? Was she really that far gone? And she'd never realized it might hurt the kids -- sure they said "Stop!" but she'd thought it was more of a 'makes them uncomfortable' thing, rather than a 'make them hurt like she had' thing. She hadn't known that could happen.
"You don't have to be human," Bill told her. He wasn't sure what else to say, after all of what Stanley had said. He knew he didn't really want that Stanford dictating what was considered acceptable or unacceptable for her to do, but that seemed like the bottom-line there for Stanley. (Stanley had effectively handed off judgment on that sort of thing to that Stanford, there -- and Bill did NOT like that, not in the least.) That meant the three options she had left within the current ruleset (as introduced, negotiated with, and mandated by Stanley) were: keep doing the same thing and not care, try and conform, or… stop talking completely around them? Just to be 'safe'?
"I… know… but… wouldn't they like me better if I was?" Miz finally asked quietly. "And… maybe sometimes I should just not be who I am…" --since apparently she was just an awful, awful person...
"If you were human and doing those things, that Stanford would react the same way," Bill told her. "He'd still 'know' you were a demon; he'd classify you that way by how you act and react." Bill knew that much for certain. "If you were only human, and he killed you, he would either think you'd moved on to tormenting others, or were 'just' a monster that needed stopping." That Stanford would waste no sleep over it. He never had.
Bill paused for a moment.
"You should be you," Bill told her, without question. "But…" Bill felt a little uncomfortable as he said, "I've been trying to regulate my own behavioral output somewhat around them…" Bill admitted. "It's tricky, and dangerous -- I will never change, I promised myself that, and I need to CONTINUE to do that, to never-change, but... -- self-regulation of too many things too far, could have me NOT being ME! If I didn't know myself, and know what I want, and what I will and will not do…"
Bill let out a breath. "But I've had hundreds of billions more years than you, to know what is and is not me. You haven't had that, yet. You're only a little over half my age," he noted. "And you've had emotional input stresses up until a few weeks ago that you couldn't control, and weren't recognizing properly, that makes it impossible to tell what was really just you, maybe, for any length of time before that." Bill grimaced. "You haven't DECIDED any of those things for yourself yet. Not really."
Miz considered that before sighing. Well, she was very… unstable mentally unsound. She would have to really work on that.
"So you need time to do that," Bill said to her next. "And that takes time. --It's fine," Bill told her. "You can do that, and we could... not-interact with that Stanford and Pine Tree and Shooting Star very much anymore, to... avoid problems, until Stanley explains mental attacks better? Not talk with them? Stitched-Heart and Red and Melody and Question Mark are fine to talk with, instead," Bill said. He was fairly sure of that. Question Mark and Red might be part of Stanley's line, but they were older and more capable and could take external stresses and internal concepts that most others could not; what their own circumstances had not already taught them, Stanley had finished the job on years ago, Bill felt. And as for listening to things that made one's 'heart ache', Stitched-Heart was good for that especially; that was practically his job!
Miz nodded. "I like Question Mark, he's nice…" she admitted quietly.
"He is… 'good-natured'," Bill said. "But he ate a candy monster to death once. Is that 'nice'?" he asked her with a laugh. (Because sure, the Trickster had wanted to be eaten, but still!)
Miz giggled. "Well, being nice is a spectrum. He's a good person, even if he ate a man alive." Besides, the kids didn't seem to have a problem with it. Then again, it WAS a candy monster that had been trying to kill them?
"Yes," Bill said. "And 'good people' can cause the worst nightmares in 'bad people', because they don't hesitate. They just go ahead and do the thing they think is right to do, if they think they know what that is; no external-reference check before they do it!" It was what made several members of his Zodiac so very dangerous, in fact.
"A paragon can be just as deadly as any villain, if what they believe is Right, is what others believe is Wrong…" Miz mumbled, snuggling closer and closing her eyes.
"And that is what that Stanford tries to think that he is doing, even though he knows that he isn't and doesn't want to admit that; he just pushes that all deep down and BURIES it under as much of all-sorts-of-other-things as he can." Bill stared up at the ceiling. "Because not-trying and not-doing-anything would be like giving up, he thinks," Bill said, repeating almost verbatim something that he'd Seen that Stanford think to himself on multiple occasions. Over and over again. "It's a bit annoying," Bill admitted. "That Stanford never wants to just-stop for awhile." Not really. Even Bill could appreciate a good break. (And not just the bone-breaking kind of break, either!)
Miz hummed softly, "I have a lot to think about. On how to be better while still being 'me' if I can…" But did she really want to be 'her' if the 'her' that exists was a terrible person?
"And I need to ask Stanley to give me a list of all the times he's wanted to punch you, and why," Bill said grimly. He hadn't noticed at all; not really. He'd thought he'd been stopping her, or otherwise making things less-worse enough to pass muster, before there had been any real issues, whenever it had looked to him like there might be. Clearly, he had been wrong.
Bill didn't correct Miz on the 'being better' versus 'being WORSE' this time. Because if Stanley felt that strongly about it...
...What were Stanley's definitions of 'better' and 'worse'? (And 'monster'?) It hadn't really occurred to Bill to ask him, before. But Stanley explained things, and Stanley was his right-hand man, and part of his Zodiac besides. ...So, maybe he should? Just for the future clarity of their little talks and discussions?
"I'm sorry for causing so much trouble…" Miz slumped over. Always causing trouble, always just being a problem, always being a bad girl… but she didn't know how to be better if no one told her what she was doing wrong...
"HA," said Bill, unaware of her own internal dialogue. "If YOU weren't causing trouble, Pine Tree and Shooting Star would just be running off and doing that instead. Or dragging you straight into THEIR trouble, to be 'in trouble' WITH them," Bill shrugged off. Even that Stanford knew that, he suspected. (Or would, once it occurred to him after someone asked him what he thought about it, ha!) "Stanley isn't telling you to avoid TROUBLE," Bill told his little sister. That would be pretty much impossible, and Stanley didn't ask for impossible things. "He's telling you he wants you to stop 'hurting' his family. --Those are TWO DIFFERENT THINGS, that only sometimes intersect."
Miz hummed to show she heard him, drifting off. It'd been a stressful evening and she needed some sleep to help her get her thoughts in order. "I'll work… on it… 'night big brother…" She yawned.
"Quiet night and pleasing dreams," Bill told her, closing his own eyes. He waved the lighting in the attic down a little lower with a lazy hand, and began his own process of drifting off to sleep.
---