Mabel doesn’t really ask permission. She announces.

So that’s how you end up sitting at a brightly decorated booth in a weirdly romantic corner of the Mystery Shack, surrounded by glittery paper hearts and suspiciously scented candles that definitely weren’t part of any official renovation plan.

Across from you is Stanford Pines.

He looks like he’s actively trying to solve a mathematical proof to escape the situation.

“This is unnecessary,” he says immediately, adjusting his posture like it might improve the scientific validity of what is happening. “I was told this was a meeting. For research collaboration.”

From somewhere behind a curtain, Mabel giggles.

“It is a meeting!” she calls. “A meet-cute meeting!”