"Stanley?"
The gargoyle did, in fact, bear a striking resemblance to his brother, down to the old and dirty pajamas that Ford had tried getting him to throw out numerous times. At least it wasn't the first weird thing of the morning, considering the current state of, well, himself. He frowned and moved a step up, shifting his new wings so they were pressed tightly against the fabric of his (now ripped) coat, when they accidentally brushed against the sides of the stairway. Stan looked quite, well, quite intimidating now, with his new horns and claws. But he wasn't about to tell his twin that; it would inflate his head too much! So, Ford said the very next thing that was on his mind.
"...even as living stone you have no sense of personal hygiene"
((ooooh this rp will be too much fun
