The coffee was fine, he didn't have particularly strong preferences one way or another about coffee. The caffeine was the point of it, and the toasty warm feeling and reassuring taste. You're not on the moon now, a good cup of coffee said. Or even a shitty cup of Starbucks, not that Stan really knew the difference.

The cigarettes, however, were what got his salivary glands going. Oh, god. He hadn't had one of those in way too long. The pack was eagerly snatched up and opened, and Stanley leaned forward to steal a light from Peter's flame. Oh, god. That was such a heavenly lungful of tar. He hummed softly, appreciating it for a moment before responding.

"It's good. This whole...yeah. It's good."

Not quite fully conscious yet, but starting to come around. The caffeine and nicotine help.