"Yeah?" Stan just looks at his brother for a second before it comes home to him how hopeful he sounds, how careful, and it comes home to him that he probably looks the same way, real obvious to any old schmoe who happens to be lookin'. Maybe it was that look Ford gave him, the wait to find out what that look meant, followed pretty suddenly by a hug. It was the surprise of it, is all. He clears his throat, the hand that reaches up from Ford's jacket to wrap around his shoulders coming a little late, but coming, all the same. "I mean, yeah, sure, any time. Not that you don't already know how cool all this shit is, but I guess the opinion of your ignoramus brother still counts for somethin', huh?"

That wasn't casual enough, was it, he thinks it might not have been and the laugh that comes after it is a little nervous. "It'll be nice to get back inside," not that he's changing the subject or anything, "it's gettin' cold out here. Don't you pack up shop and move down south for the winter, like sane- uh, reasonable folks do?"