“Hurry!” Dipper shouted, tugging you along by the hand. “Before it vanishes again!”

That was all he had been saying since he pulled you out of bed that morning, insisting you eat breakfast in your pajamas while he rambled about some strange box that had appeared in the forest overnight.

After convincing him to let you at least get dressed, he dragged you through the woods, excitement bubbling over as he pulled you to a clearing behind a tree. Now, in hushed tones, he whispered, “See?”

You followed his gaze, and there it was—a blue box sitting in the clearing. A man wearing a fez stood nearby, examining a glowing toadstool beside a tree, oblivious to your presence.

“Interesting,” the fez-wearing man muttered to himself, pulling out a peculiar device with a green tip that glowed and whirred as he examined it. “This… is not my universe.” He sighed, standing up and adjusting his suspenders, scanning the area. You couldn’t help but notice how youthful and cherubic his face looked.

Meanwhile, Dipper was busy taking notes, muttering to himself in excitement. The man must have heard him because he suddenly snapped his head in your direction and shouted, “Oi!”

He strode toward you with purpose. Dipper, startled, scrambled away, his hat tumbling off in the process. He paused just long enough to snatch it up before dashing off again, seemingly forgetting you were still there.

You felt rooted to the spot, staring as the thin man approached. He examined you intently, tilting his head and letting out a soft hum. “Where do I know you from?” he mumbled, almost to himself, and an instinctual urge to flee flickered in your mind. Why hadn't Dipper brought Ford? Ford would know what to do.