What Stan's doing right now, the way he's moving - Ford's never seen a person do that before. He looks more like a cornered animal than his brother, like one of the more wild, vicious creatures that he's encountered in the woods since coming here. It's scary, seeing him move like that, seeing all that anger coiling in his fists, hearing it bleed into his words. Ford's never been scared of his brother before. He's never looked at him - when he knew it was actually him - and thought to himself, this person is dangerous. This is someone I should stay away from.

Well, he's starting to think that now, and he hates himself for it because this is Stan. He should know better than to ever think he needs to be scared of his brother. All that anger, all that pent up rage that's making Stan act like this - he doesn't have to worry about it being taken out on him. He'll never have to worry about that, because Stan would never -

The sound of shattering glass makes him flinch, despite himself, and Ford feels all those reassuring words he was telling himself beat a hasty retreat. He hangs back in the doorway rather than try to approach his brother, the fading echo of his dream still fresh in his mind. He grips the doorframe, unsure if it's safe to break the silence that follows Stan's outburst. Ford decides to risk it, decides that he's got nothing to risk in the first place because there is no risk because this is Stan. This is Stan, not - not him.

"Stanley, you're scaring me."

He bites his tongue, immediately regretting his words.

"You - you need to calm down."

Before you hurt yourself even more.