Ford is the very last person who would call Stan out on those little circles he's moving his hand in - partly because that's just something that's too embarrassing for either of them to verbally acknowledge, and partly because the most awful, snort-laugh bursts out of him and renders him incapable of speech. He slaps a hand over his eyes, his shoulders shaking as he kicks out a few tired chuckles that don't even bother to mute themselves. Normally he'd make more of an effort to pretend like that sort of humor doesn't amuse him, but - well, this is Stan he's dealing with, not some pretentious yuppie who'll look down on him for getting a kick out of a lowbrow joke.

"A better question is who would even believe you?" He tries to wipe the grin off his face, but it stays stubbornly in place despite his best efforts to reign it in. He shakes his head, his eyes falling shut a moment as he lets out one last amused huff, before looking back to Stan, his expression a touch more sober.

"I'm not even sure you'll believe it, and you've just survived an encounter with a homicidal, shape-changing, extra-terrestrial life-form of unknown origin."