"This one?" Stan turns, steps out of the way of a couple of the weird moving wall things, and stretches to slap at the one he's pretty sure Ford meant. "There. That wasn't so bad. Come on, what other sci-fi alien deathtraps did you build into this place? I can handle 'em."

Stan doesn't sound too alarmed either - in fact, he sounds cheerful. He is cheerful. They haven't even done anything yet, but it's like - it's fun, doing this, it's so different from all the shit he's spent the last few days, hell, the last month, the last few years, dealing with. It's a relief.

Besides. This wasn't that deadly. No one squished or anything. Good news all around.