The hands on his shoulders make him tense, make his whole body tense, his back and shoulders and legs all ready to - well, ready for something, ready for whatever, ready to move, and his eyes are wide. It's his ears that aren't getting with the program, because the words, they don't fit.

Nah, he heard right, it's Ford that isn't with the program. "You don't get it. That's what I'm for, steppin' up to take the hits so you don't have to, you oughta' know that. I shouldn't of cared whether or not you'd even talk to me, I shoulda' just come. I thought you were safe with your degrees and your fancy grant, and look! Look how wrong I got it. You shoulda' had better than this, this creepy little shack in a creepy little forest dealin' with all this - whatever the hell this is, it don't matter, dealing with it on your own! You shoulda' got better than this, and you didn't, and whose fault is that?"

Stanley pokes at Ford's chest now, still breathing hard but tears forgotten in the indignity of his brother being so dumb about such an obvious thing. "I shouldn't have ta' walk you through this, pointdexter, you know this one."