They're not talking about the fort. They both know they're not, but Ford's not about to be the first one to mess up the good thing they've got going on here by actually directly saying what he means - something tells him they're already treading on dangerous ground enough as it is.

"I don't know, Stan. It's going to need a lot of work." Ford looks down at his brother's plate, his eyebrows raising as he appraises the mess.

He only pretends to think the project over for a moment or two before looking back up at Stan, and if his voice is a little more hesitant than it was before, a little less confident, well, hopefully Stan won't notice.

"But I think...I think we can salvage something from this mess."

He looks down suddenly, gesturing back to the sad pile of fries as if to emphasize that the fort is what they're talking about, even though they both know it isn't.

"I can't promise it'll be anything like it was, but it - it'll be something, at least. It'll be something."