Stanley is less than surprised that their hands fit together so well. That is, he's not surprised at all. It's the fact that Ford took his in the first place that he's paying attention to and when it happens a huge, delighted smile breaks over his face. It's the first time they've touched since- well. Yeah. Since that. Any smile that big fades naturally after a few seconds but it does linger on his face a while, giving him a pleased, relaxed look that couldn't contrast more sharply with his brother's hyped up paranoia and worry.

"I'll stand," he says, the back of one hand settling against his hip. "Look, Ford, stop pussyfootin' around and tell me. I've been in trouble you wouldn't believe - whatever this is that's eatin' you, trust me, I can handle it. It's you who oughta' sit down. Maybe have somea' that, while you're at it." His free hand waves at the drink mixer and decanter next to it. Those, for the record, are the one thing in this place that doesn't seem weird to him. Especially not with everything else he's still pretty sure his brother's gotten into. Some things just go together. Peanut butter and jelly, like.