"Pancake man, attack! Go! Go! Go!"
A wad of half-eaten pancake slammed into an unsuspecting boy's face, tumbling down comically slow onto his plate. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
This was supposed to be a normal breakfast.
"Mabel, I think-"
Another warm, syrupy mass struck him. This time, it landed on his vest, folding over onto itself until the sweet lump settled on his lap.
Forever patient, the boy sighed and scooped up the food item. He placed it on the table top and returned his attention to his sister.
"Mabel, please."
The sweater-clad girl shifted her gaze and twiddled her thumbs. She looked genuinely remorseful.
Her mouth moved but her words were muffled.
"What was that?"
She lifted a hand and beckoned to him with her half-hidden fingers. Dipper pushed his chair back and walked to the female's side of the table.
He lowered himself to her sitting height, ear by her face.
"I said...SEND IN THE TROOPS!"
The boy was assaulted by hundreds of bits of pancakes, all rapid-fired from the fork and spoon Mabel weld. He stumbled, shielding his face with a syrup-stained arm.
"Mabel! I don't want to play! Stop being so immature!"
Breathing heavily, he picked himself up off the ground, ready to stomp defiantly away.
Instead, he clutched his chest, apologies boiling up inside him.
If her happiness had been the highest high, then it had free-fallen into the Marianas Trench. Her lip quivered. The brown eyes that they shared stared right at him, too shiny, too big. She looked down, fingers shakily clenching each other.
"I'm sorry. Im silly," she squeaked out. Then she turned and trudged away.
Dipper sprung into action. "No, Mable, I didn't mean it like that!"
She kept walking, desspite his attempts to pull her back. She just shrugged his hands off her shoulders and wiggled out of his hugs.
Dipper watched as she walked outside, closing the door behind her.