Stan relaxes. It worked. This is gonna' be okay. Some people don't like it when he changes the subject like that, and as Stan thinks it he realizes he's been thinking of Ford the same way he'd think of any other schmuck he's gotta' live with for a while, trying to figure out what they're like and how much he can get away with. He oughta' know this, doesn't he know Ford like he knows the back of his own hand?

But you know what? Ford don't mind it when Stan changes the subject. That means Stan's got a little wiggle room for all those potholes scattered all over their conversations, and that means the good ship the Pines Brothers might not fall into one of those potholes and bust a tire just yet.

"Uh," he says, distracted from that last thought because he's got to spend a couple seconds staring at that twenty. "Let me out, I'll go get your change." That's what he gets for sitting in the booth first, he can't get up unless Ford lets him. "Then we'll head back. There's really nothin' else you wanna' do here, huh? Is this place really that small?"