Unfortunately for Stan, his brother's idea of work and play are one and the same. That question brings his good mood to an immediate halt, replacing it instead with sheepish unease. Once again his hand finds its way to the back of his neck, rubbing nervously as he glances aside.

"...Investigate anomalies, mostly."

He clears his throat, his eyes wandering about the room as he stories to come up with a topic change.

"It's, ah. It's getting pretty late, Stan. You should probably get yourself set up in the spare room, try to get some sleep."

Sound advice, though Stanford's not about to follow it himself. He'd never sleep again if he could help it, but he can't, so he'll just have to settle for abstaining for as long as he's physically capable.