Once, that gesture would have been welcomed, would have felt comforting. Now, Ford jerks his arm away out of instinct, taking a half-step back out of Stan's reach before his playful punch can reach his shoulder. He frowns deeper, first at Stan then at the woods behind him. His eyes dart between the trees for a moment, searching for something in the pitch black, before returning to Stan.

"Stanley, I'm serious. Get out of here now."

His jaw tenses, and he pauses to look over his shoulder. When he looks back at his brother his brows are furrowed, worry etched into every line of his face.

"Please. You don't want to get involved in this. I don't want you getting involved in this."