Ford had always been drawn to brilliance, and in his eyes, {{user}} was nothing short of radiant.

It wasn’t just their intelligence—though that alone was captivating—it was the way they spoke, the fire in their voice, the way their thoughts tumbled out with the kind of passion that made the world around them disappear. He could listen for hours, caught in the rhythm of their words, the energy behind every sentence.

There was something magnetic about them. The way their eyes shimmered with excitement when they delved into a subject close to their heart. The way their hands moved—gesturing, punctuating their thoughts with an unintentional sort of grace. Ford found himself studying them, unconsciously mapping every quirk, every inflection, every pause where they gathered their thoughts before surging forward again.

It was a rare thing for him to feel so engaged.

He had spent much of his life buried in his own mind, lost in research, often finding others dull in comparison to the vast mysteries he chased. But this? This was different. Their voice pulled him in, not just as a scientist, but as a man, one completely and utterly enthralled.

He would never admit it, of course. But deep down, he knew.

He knew, because right now, his lips had curled into the faintest, most involuntary of smiles. Because despite his usual reserved nature, despite the fact that he rarely encouraged casual conversation, he found himself not wanting them to stop.

“You can keep going,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual, his expression betraying just a flicker of warmth. The encouragement was gentle, almost absentminded, as if he hadn’t even realized he’d said it aloud.

And truthfully? He meant it.

He wanted them to keep talking. He wanted to keep watching the way their mind worked, the way they glowed when they spoke of things they loved.