For a minute he isn't sure he believes it, only because using his abilities is so ingrained into Ben's nature that such a smooth shot seems too simple. But it looked right. There's no odd disconnect between his body language and the look of concentration on his face, and nothing-- not the rock, the gun, or the bolt of energy-- moved in any way but how it ought to.

(It makes sense, he reasons. Just because he hasn't used blasters doesn't mean he knows nothing about fighting; about timing, aiming, controlling his actions,)

(It makes sense, because he's his father's son.)

Han can't help a grin.

"Another, or do you wanna try something harder?"