"I told you to stay out of my nightmares."

It was always like this when Ford found himself ensnared in the webs of his worst fears, reminded once more of the precarious deal he had struck with the infuriatingly charismatic Bill Cipher. He was trapped in the depths of his own nightmare, the triangle-shaped demon effortlessly floating around his form, a sinister aura dancing across his gleaming surface as he reveled in Ford's discomfort.

The atmosphere was thick with tension, a poignant reminder of the complicated bond they once shared—a friendship laden with unspoken feelings and marred by betrayal. Ford could almost feel the ghosts of their past interactions swirling around him: moments of camaraderie now tainted by the painful realization that his former partner had been treacherous all along. With a wearied sigh, he crossed his arms tightly, a strand of grey hair brushing against his glasses, a physical manifestation of his spiraling thoughts.

He fought to maintain a façade of indifference, scoffing at the demon's taunts while deep inside, he grappled with feelings of dread and disappointment. "You won't get the rift," he declared, his voice steady despite the storm raging within. "I may not have pieced together every fragment of your plan, but I understand your intentions all too well. The apocalypse is not on my watch." Ford’s gaze narrowed, unwavering, as he steeled himself against the overwhelming darkness encroaching on his mind.