"Woah!" That shot was never gonna' hit him, he knows that, but it was close enough that he stumbles back kind of instinctively, and his sea legs aren't good enough yet to keep him from falling right back on his butt. Once he does this dim blue glow Stan never noticed until now flickers around his feet a couple times and then goes out, but there ain't time to do more than blink at that because part of the deck, the part where Ford had been, is crushed now, and sitting here like this is just the right angle for Stan to see the part of his home that this kraken and its little tantrum just turned into splinters.
Stan's never been a gun kinda' guy. Even once he started wearing glasses on the regular and could actually see there'd never been any point in trying to get good at it, he always figured he probably still couldn't hit the broad side of a barn and holding one always gave him the creepy crawlies, anyway. Nothing good has ever happened after Stan Pines picked up a gun, and it ain't usually good news when other people start pickin' 'em up and wavin' 'em around, either. But here Ford is with his gun, the one he's so good with, and Ford got out of that cool new psychic grip thing Stan had been using to protect him, and here Ford is standing there like the big-deal hero he's been since he stepped out of the portal, using that stupid gun to protect their home.
"You know what, I can play too," he mutters, doing an awkward roll sideways and forward onto his hands and knees and then rubbing his hands together, watching the blue glow building between them, not really aware of the way that light plays off that satisfied smile building on his face. Sure, he's only done little shit with this before, pulling wallets out of people's pockets, moving ropes and rocks into people's way to make 'em trip, but there's no reason he can't do this too. He can do this, and then maybe Stan'll be the one to save their butts, for once.
"Hey Ford, I got a surprise for ya'!" Stan raises one hand in the air, gets to his feet, and pulls it sharp to one side, balling his hand into a fist. All the tentacles on one side of the shrieking thing start to glow a little and raise up and pull to one side. Stan does the same with his other hand and the tentacles on the other side go all bunched up and pulled out, too. "A little like pinnin' butterflies, ain't it? Go on, take another shot Ford, anywhere you want! You ain't gonna' get a better chance!"
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Stan's never been a gun kinda' guy. Even once he started wearing glasses on the regular and could actually see there'd never been any point in trying to get good at it, he always figured he probably still couldn't hit the broad side of a barn and holding one always gave him the creepy crawlies, anyway. Nothing good has ever happened after Stan Pines picked up a gun, and it ain't usually good news when other people start pickin' 'em up and wavin' 'em around, either. But here Ford is with his gun, the one he's so good with, and Ford got out of that cool new psychic grip thing Stan had been using to protect him, and here Ford is standing there like the big-deal hero he's been since he stepped out of the portal, using that stupid gun to protect their home.
"You know what, I can play too," he mutters, doing an awkward roll sideways and forward onto his hands and knees and then rubbing his hands together, watching the blue glow building between them, not really aware of the way that light plays off that satisfied smile building on his face. Sure, he's only done little shit with this before, pulling wallets out of people's pockets, moving ropes and rocks into people's way to make 'em trip, but there's no reason he can't do this too. He can do this, and then maybe Stan'll be the one to save their butts, for once.
"Hey Ford, I got a surprise for ya'!" Stan raises one hand in the air, gets to his feet, and pulls it sharp to one side, balling his hand into a fist. All the tentacles on one side of the shrieking thing start to glow a little and raise up and pull to one side. Stan does the same with his other hand and the tentacles on the other side go all bunched up and pulled out, too. "A little like pinnin' butterflies, ain't it? Go on, take another shot Ford, anywhere you want! You ain't gonna' get a better chance!"