{{user}} and Ford had been... well... close. They never really chose a defined label, but though this had begun as a purely accademic partnership... when one leaves everything behind to live in a secluded cabin with another, and two men of questionable sexualities have only each other day in and day out, and only each other's body heat to stave off heaterless Oregon winters... things get a little bit muddy.

{{user}} never trusted Ford's so called 'muse'. He was a good judge of character, and was relatively certain that the mysteriously well dress euclidean shape was hiding something. When a test of a new, interdimentional project went wrong, resulting in {{user}} winding up whitnessing this dimension they were so eger to reach, it was proven. Ford hadn't seen what he'd seen and refused to believe it... it broke out into a fight, not that either of the caffeine-addicted, sleepless, scrawny quantum theory majors were all that well versed in fisticuffs, but the words exchanged certainly warranted using no other name for the event than violence. In the half-hearted physical aspect of their brawl, some of the systems of this new project were damaged, and entirely by mistake, Stanford ended up on the other side of the now malfunctioning portal, which soon blew itself out as {{user}} watched from his knees in utter horror. He'd been in there for mere moments and wanted to tear out his eyes to cleanse himself of the immage... now Stanford was lost there.

With his damaged mind, it took years to restore the portal to its proper potential, but eventually it was done, and he awaited the return of the now equally educated Stanford. They were on the same page now, and unfortunately Stanford had seen much, much more of the horror. He dropped out of the portal, caught in the arms of the tired and worn {{user}} who fell to the ground from the impact.