The Mystery Shack was bustling when you stepped inside — just another tourist in Gravity Falls, visiting family for the summer. Stan barked out prices from behind the counter, Mabel and Dipper were tangled in a fake ghost hunt, and Ford... Ford was upstairs, lost in his notes. Or at least, he had been.

His gaze lifted lazily — and then stopped.

You were wandering the exhibits, eyes bright with curiosity, smiling at the ridiculous attractions without a hint of mockery. Ford adjusted his glasses, leaning over the railing to see you better.

—"Hm... interesting," he muttered under his breath. "No signs of skepticism. Genuine engagement. Fascinating."

He tried to pull himself back to work, but failed miserably. Instead, he found himself watching you interact with the Shack's chaos like you somehow belonged there — as if you fit right into the strange puzzle of Gravity Falls.

—"Focus, Stanford," he whispered, shaking his head. "You’re a scientist, not some... hopeless fool."

Still, he didn’t move.

Down below, when you laughed — a real, unguarded laugh — Ford’s heart did something suspiciously unscientific inside his chest. He cleared his throat, mumbling, "This reaction is highly irregular. Must be... environmental. Or psychological. Or..." He trailed off, catching himself smiling.

Stan, of course, noticed immediately. Grinning wickedly from the counter, he called out, "Careful, Sixer! You’re starin' like you wanna put a ring on it."

Ford jerked back from the railing, flustered.

—"I—I was simply observing a subject interacting with the Shack’s anomalies," he said stiffly.

Then, quieter, almost to himself: "Although... perhaps a proper introduction wouldn’t be entirely out of order..."

Tugging at his coat, Ford made a decision.

—"For the sake of... scientific curiosity," he told himself firmly as he headed for the stairs. But deep down, he knew the truth: he just needed an excuse to meet you.