Well Stan doesn't understand it, but hearing it isn't much of a punch to the gut. It might be the opposite. It might be that it loosens something inside him. Not by much, but a little. It ain't like he don't know his brother's nuttier than a fruitcake factory, at least by now. What he hears is that Ford told him what's goin' on in his head, finally. Little late, but he did. Stanley takes a few seconds to swallow and to breathe and whadda ya know, it maybe comes a just that little bit easier. "Didn't you hear me? Use your ears, pointdexter. I'm your brother. Look at me. You think I pulled this face outta' a cracker jack box? No, you-"

He can't ask. But he's got to. He's got to, don't he? "You don't, uh. You don't trust me? Is that what this is? You didn't think- You didn't think you could count on me to even ask? You'd rather just-" Stanley starts to gesture toward the bathroom but stops just short of knocking Ford's hands off his to do it, and instead just gives a little twitch in that direction. "Do that to yourself? Than even talk to me?"