Dipper Pines stumbled his way through the throng of people crowded within the bakery. The stuffy, humid air choking his lungs as he pushed forwards past the greeting townsfolk. The wooden counter dug rather painfully into his ribs as he leaned his weight over it's rough edge to avoid the bustling mass of people behind him. "Well hey there, Dipper," a bulky man called over the noise, wiping his floured hands against the white apron adorning his broad torso, "what can we get ya?" Dipper scrambled to fish the change his great uncle, Stan, had given him from his pockets as he spoke, voice cracking due to it's sudden use and volume, "Just the usual, please." He slid the coins over the rough expanse of the counter towards the big man, ducking his head in embarrassment at the pitch of his voice. If the sweaty man noticed he didn't comment as his larger hand grabbed the payment and proceeded over to the ever-chiming cash register. Dipper cursed his changing teenage body while pulling his worn, dusty cap further over his bangs that hid his unnatural birthmark.
Beefy fingers slid a small white strip of paper into his line of sight. "Here's your receipt," was all the man said before stalking off towards the kitchen. Dipper pocketed the receipt without care and hastily stepped from the counter, making his way behind the longish line where food was meant to be picked up, tripping roughly once over someone's foot. Still slightly embarrassed about his voice, Dipper tried not to join the small talk familiar townsfolk attempted with him, merely nodding, shrugging, or shaking his head as much as he could as replies to any questions casually aimed his way. When Dipper finally found his way to the front, he quickly pulled the crumbled receipt from his pocket to show what he had ordered. Nodding his thanks and his farewells to everyone that bothered, the boy hastily made his way through the open, rotting doorway where the ordering line trickled out into the lantern lighted streets.
"Still working?" A woman's voice, thick with exhaustion and a hint of concern called after him as he ducked under her arms, cradling a basket of groceries. He jumped and whipped back around towards her, as if he were a young child getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar before supper. Susan Wentworth, (or "Lazy Susan," so the townsfolk call her, what with her one "lazy" eye which was always drooped shut,) stood half in, half out of the doorway into the bakery, her silver hair tied up in a bun atop her head, forehead glistening with sweat. It's not like he knew her personally, but, he was pretty sure his great uncle had some kind of liking towards her (which he'd rather not think about) so he spent quite some time around the woman, helping his uncle help her, (or more like Dipper doing all the hard work while his great uncle attempted at "flirting,") with various chores around her home and the bakery during her own shifts, so she felt almost like some odd great aunt to him.
Almost.
She was still pretty... strange.
He nodded, replying with a mumbled, "yes ma'am," just loud enough for her to hear, before rushing back down the dirt road. He wasn't sure how long he was in the bakery for and we was quite famished. Dipper didn't slow his hurried pace until he was alone, away from the bustling town. He panted lightly into the warm night air, one hand clutched tightly around the greasy brown bag containing dinner, the other searching his pockets, reassuring himself that no extra change was lost during his hurried escape. Breathing in deep and releasing a noisy sigh, Dipper stared into the night sky gleaming with shining stars peaking around fluffed clouds littering the dark canvas. He had been gone nearly an hour if he were to guess by the moons changed position.
All thoughts about dinner and sore muscles to-be-forgotten through much needed sleep fled his mind as Dipper continued to simply stand there, watching as clouds parted to reveal more of the twinkling starry sky, allowing the chilling air to wash over his dirtied, burning skin. He began to recognize and silently name the vast constellations over-head as he lost himself in the beauty of the night sky . It was when he had just spotted the asterism, The Big Dipper, (which could also be found hidden beneath his brown bangs) and in the middle of reciting some random information about its stars under his breath to distract and ease the unconscious pain he felt whenever he star gazed alone like this, when he noticed a blue glow falling into his line of sight.
The blue glow was slow in its descent towards the earth below. Intrigued, Dipper decided that his little break was over as he started forward with a small jog towards the falling light. Struggling to keep his eyes fixed on the light and not tripping over raised roots and tangled weeds, Dipper thought about the possibilities of what the blue glow could mean. Perhaps it would be a thing of beauty and rarity, like a fallen star (or other such sort his late great uncle Stanford used to tell and describe to him as bedtime stories during his childhood,) leading his great uncle and himself, or quite possibly, the entire town, to riches beyond imagination. Now that would certainly have Stanley to forget entirely about Dippers lateness. Or, it could be something entirely different and dangerous and kill Dipper instantly. Either way, adventure filled Dipper's mind, his curiosity winning over senses. The young boy quickened his pace as the light descended out of sight and into the surrounding forest.
