Chapter Text
It started with the ringing of the bell. Pacifica hated that sound. It heralded new arrivals to the diner. More hungry customers. More work for her to do, delivering plates and sweeping up the messes left afterwards.
The guy walking in this rainy afternoon caught her eye from across the diner. She could immediately tell he was going to be trouble. Mud caked the bottoms of his jeans, reaching all the way up to his knees. Drops of the wet stuff occasionally splattered onto the welcome mat and the wooden floor. He just stood there in the doorway, gawking, and leaving a puddle of brown ooze.
Pacifica sighed and tightened an apron around her pink uniform. Grabbing a mop, she hurried over to the door. In an instant her weariness was wiped away and replaced with a smile that was a few inches too artificial. She pitched her voice up a few octaves and said, “Welcome to Greasy’s Diner, how may I help you?”
Not like the stranger noticed, since he had his head craned down, focused on a book cradled in one palm. Pacifica cleared her throat. “Excuse me?” She tried to layer on a level of sweetness she hadn’t yet mastered, but it finally drew the attention of the newcomer. “Can I help you? You’re kinda blocking the door.” A rather moot point, given the lack of any other customers trying to fight their way inside. “Mind the dirt, too.”
He lifted one leg to ascertain its cleanliness, then smiled apologetically. “Sorry. It’s kinda wet out there.” He shook his head, brown curls discharging small droplets of water that mingled with the mud. Pacifica took a step back so that her pink dress would remain immaculate. With that, the stranger took a seat in one of the booths, leaving Pacifica to sweep up the dirt.
“Typical,” she muttered as she got to work, soaking the mop in a nearby bucket and lazily wiping it back and forth over the sodden welcome mat. “Susan,” she called out to the kitchen, “we got a new one.”
“Ok!” came the always cheerful reply from her manager. Lazy Susan was known throughout town as something of a harmless ditz. It made working under her somewhat of a self-driven experience for Pacifica. Most of the day she had no oversight, while Susan toiled in the back of the kitchen pre-preparing breakfast meals for the following morning’s influx of truckers. It would be up to Pacifica to cater to the newcomer.
Realising she might have to take an order, she leant the mop by the door, the mess left behind by the stranger only barely cleared away. She grabbed a notebook and pen, readying herself to wander over to his table. It took a second for the façade of forced cheeriness she wore during work hours to resurface again, before she addressed him. “Hello, welcome to Greasy’s, may I take your order?”
The guy didn’t respond, nose in his book and engrossed with pencilling in messy notes. Pacifica inwardly groaned. She knew the type. Ignorant college students playing tourist. Gravity Falls was a small place, but every year a few students from out of town wandered in on their breaks. She rarely saw them more than once, but they always looked out of place, more dishevelled than the locals, having risked exploring in the dense forests with inadequate gear and quickly being scared off by the more formidable hiking trails.
This brown-haired guy was no different; come in from the rain and now studying for some midterm or something. His dark blue hoodie was zipped up tight and soaked through, She already knew how much mud he’d tracked in. Clearly he’d been trudging through the woods to get here.
“Hey,” she snapped, not deigning to continue in the polite manner, and finally getting his attention. “You gonna order something or what?”
“Oh, uh…” Yeah, he was the type alright, probably strapped for cash and just looking for a haven from the rain and the woods. “Just a drink, something fizzy.”
Pacifica rolled her eyes. She hated when people didn’t order from the menu. “We have Pitt Cola, it’s a local drink. You want that?” The stranger nodded, not registering her growing attitude of annoyance.
Pacifica went to the mini fridge behind the diner’s counter, grabbed a can, and shut the door with a bump of her hips. “Thanks,” the guy said as she handed over the drink. Wasn’t like she’d done anything he couldn’t have himself, but at least he had some basic manners. He took one sip, didn’t visibly react in any way, then set the drink aside and went back to clutching his book.
That seemed to be the end of any interest Pacifica might have in the stranger. He was content with his shabby book, and made no effort to engage further. On most days Pacifica wouldn’t care one bit. The diner was hardly a bustling metropolis on average midweek, but it had been a particularly slow day. She and Susan had only had about three other patrons pass through that day.
Pacifica looked around the diner’s interior. Empty booths, no-one at the counter, Susan occupied in the back. She glanced over reluctantly at the pool of mud lingering at the entrance, then back to the stranger. “Screw it,” she thought, ignoring the mess and dropping into the booth seat opposite the new guy.
Crossing her legs under the table, she started repetitively tapping her foot, wondering how long it would take for the stranger to even notice. A few seconds later he caught sight of her for a second, then peered up over the book, furrowing an eyebrow in question.
“Watcha reading?” she lazily asked.
The stranger’s eyes darted around the diner, utterly confused about Pacifica’s sudden appearance. “What’s it to you?” he asked back, a wary look on his face.
“Right now you’re the only halfway interesting thing in this place.” She gestured around the empty diner. “So, what are you reading?” Slumping on one hand, she flashed a smug smile at him, enjoying his minor confusion as gears turned in his head to catch up.
Slowly, methodically, he closed the book, which she now saw was a thick, leather-bound tome, and placed it on the table next to his abandoned cola. As his hand drifted off the cover, Pacifica saw the glint of a golden tree, with a glossy black number 4 in the centre.
“It’s, uh, how to explain?”
Pacifica watched him fidget in place, running a hand through his messy hair and sticking out his tongue. She suppressed a small giggle. Watching him squirm was already more entertaining than most of the average clientele.
“How about,” he answered, “we start with introductions, and I’ll ease you into that stuff.”
“Ooh, sounds like serious business,” Pacifica drawled, finally straightening up from her slump.
The stranger thrust his hand in her face. “Mason Pines.”
Giving into a lifetime of expectations, she gingerly shook his hand. “So, Mr Pines, what brings you to a small, out of the way town like this?”
“Mr Pines?” He was taken somewhat aback. “That sounds more like my dad, or, heh, my uncle. Call me Dipper.”
“Dip-per.” She tested out the strange name, sneering a little as she did so.
“It’s a long story. Anyway, how did you know I’m from out of town?” he shot back quickly.
“Never seen you in here before, that’s all.” Her eyes drifted under the table, to his still mud-caked jeans. “You have the look of a guy that just found out that nature exists.”
“Ha, guilty there. I’m here on what you might call a research trip.”
“Yep,” Pacifica thought. “College boy from the city getting his first taste of the wilderness.”
“So,” she said aloud, “you studying in Portland, or maybe Mt Hood?”
“Oh, no no.” Dipper shook his head. “Not like that. I’m not with a college. This is more of a hobby kind of thing, a passion, you know.”
“Uh-huh.” Pacifica nodded apprehensively. Part of her wasn’t sure why she was still listening to this random stranger. She’d already confirmed her impressions from when she first clocked him. Did she really want any more?
Perhaps it was the sheer boredom of this last shift, maybe it was the slightly unusual air that Dipper had around him. She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she didn’t mind following the conversation a little further.
“Right, to bring it back to the start: What’s so special about that book?” She shot out a hand to steal it, but somehow Dipper’s own arm moved to intercept and block her. He slid the book closer towards himself. “Jumpy little guy, aren’t you. What, are you protecting state secrets or something?”
“Always helps to be prepared for any eventuality.”
Pacifica sat up. He hadn’t taken her small insult at all like she’d expected. He was dead serious. She leant closer to him across the table, and whispered, “Alright then. Tell me about it.”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of heavy.”
“I’m sure I can take it,” Pacifica shrugged. “You haven’t seen this place on a Saturday morning, now that’s heavy.”
Dipper checked around the room, as if making sure no-one would overhear them. A rather pointless exercise given that they were the only occupants of the diner.
Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Come on, just tell me. It’s that or I go and wipe down all the tables for the sixth time this afternoon.”
Chewing on his lip, Dipper leant in closer. A few inches from her face, he began to whisper conspiratorially. “What if I told you that beneath our everyday normal world there was something way bigger than anyone would believe. A second, hidden world, of danger and mystery, all centred around this one unassuming town.”
“Well duh.”
Dipper’s expression simply halted, unable to process what she’d said. “Whuh-”
“Of course I know this place is weird. This is Gravity Falls, weirdness capital of the USA. On my way to work yesterday I had to shoo away three gnomes who were digging in the trash out back. You kinda just get used to it.”
“Oh.” Dipper’s look of disappointment was priceless, all his bravado draining away. She expected him to withdraw, to sulk and ignore her from then on. Instead, a sudden smirk overtook his face, with a fire growing in his eyes. “Well I’m looking for something bigger than any gnome. I could show you...”
Pacifica leant back in her chair and pursed her lips, debating whether she should stick around and listen to what he had to say. Was this really what her life had come to? Wasting away the hours in this crummy diner, listening to what magical creature nerds had to say? Then again, as she’d said to him, her alternatives were limited.
“Go on then. Why not? Tell me all about it.”
Beaming, Dipper splayed open the book. The page Pacifica was presented with was covered in spidery handwriting, messy notes practically overlapping and crowding each other out. Taking up most of the space was a freaky looking lizard thing, with a large sail-like crest along its back.
“This is just one of the things I’ve seen in the last two weeks since I arrived. You might know about the gnomes and the other more common creatures...” He said it confidently, almost in a lecturing way, and Pacifica couldn’t help but let out a small scoff of annoyance. “But there are grander things at work, incredible, baffling things that science can barely understand. That’s why I’m here, looking into all the mystical stuff.”
Dipper flipped the page, showing another strange oddity. This time it was a bipedal bull man, lifting weights. Then another, a bear with 12 heads. A horned cyclops made out of clay. A yellow triangle.
Pacifica suddenly realised that Dipper had stopped talking, and was regarding her with a curious eye. “Why are you interested in all this? In me?”
“Because…” she took some time to choose her words. “Because you’re different. Something new.” She smiled, and offered her hand again for Dipper to shake. “It’s Northwest by the way. Pacifica Northwest.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Dipper grinned as he took the offered hand, and the two once again shook. “Nice to finally run into a local who’ll actually talk about this stuff.”
“I did wonder why you blabbed about it so easily. Isn’t it supposed to be ‘super secret research’, after all?”
“Honestly, you’re the first person who’s asked. Most of the townsfolk didn’t really care when I tried talking to them.”
“Not your fault, trust me. I’m pretty sure the people in this town are weirder than the monsters.”
Dipper laughed. “Now ain’t that the truth.” His watch gave a beeping sound. “Oh crap, I’m late. Only meant to write down a few notes, I’m meeting my sister.” He gathered up his journal and pen and shuffled out of the booth. Rifling in his pocket, he dumped some change on the table, to pay for his barely drunk cola.
Though he seemed eager to leave, Pacifica called out to him. “Hey. Will I see you around some other time?” she half-mumbled, avoiding his direct gaze. “In case I, you know, need something to alleviate the boredom.”
“Glad I’m useful for that at least.” He hesitated before leaving her behind. “I’m just visiting really. Only here for the summer. Though you’d hardly tell it was summer on a wet day like today. Do you know the old Mystery Shack on Gopher Road? I’m staying there with my great-uncle.”
“That dump?” Pacifica blurted out.
Dipper was momentarily hurt, before changing his mind and slowly nodding. “Well, it could do with better insulation. And actual running water would be nice.”
He opened the door to the miserable rain, still beating down in sheets. “Try not to catch a cold out there,” Pacifica said, grinning at the thought that he’d get drenched.
Dipper grimaced at the terrible weather. “Don’t worry, I’m not totally unprepared.” From his hoodie pocket he pulled out a fur hat, dark grey and brown, and slid it snugly over his head. “See you round, Pacifica Northwest.”
He gave a wave then headed out to brave the wild conditions. Pacifica leaned on the doorframe, watching him trudge off, head down and already soaking again. She chuckled, reflecting on their odd conversation and wondering if she’d see him in here a second time. Oftentimes folks would pass through once and she’d never see their faces again. Silently, she had the tiniest hope that Dipper would show up someday.
Then she remembered that the puddle of mud he’d dragged in was still marinating on the floor. Grumbling, she picked up the bucket and mop and got back to work cleaning. “Thanks a lot, Pines!” she yelled out the door.
Dipper turned back from over the road and looked back apologetically. His smile was almost enough to make Pacifica forgive him. Blushing despite herself, she focused on the dirty floor, scrubbing it back and forth. Soon, Dipper’s last muddy souvenir was wiped away and the diner was quiet once more.