Ford frowns, his eyes darting from his brother's face to the hand being extended towards him. He hesitates, his expression twisting with uncertainty before his resolve wavers and he takes hold of Stan's hand.

It feels...different, than he remembers. Bigger, more calloused. Years of hard work have worn it down, but somehow, despite everything, it still fits perfectly in his own. Stanford's not sure how to feel about that, so he resolves to not feel anything about it at all and push it in the back of his mind to be dealt with later - or preferably never.

"Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, he lets go of his brother's hand and then gestures to the couch.

"You're going to want to sit down for this."