Between cleaning off Blubs, Durland, and the entire police station floor, it was several hours before the law enforcement trio made it to Greasy's Diner for that slice of pie. Or, in Coop's case, slices. As they ate, Blubs decided to strike up conversation.

"So, Agent Cooper," he asked, "where exactly are you from?"

"The Philadelphia area originally," he answered, "but I haven't been there in a while. The bureau sends its agents all over the place. Lazy Susan," he added as the diner's owner passed him behind the counter, "a cup of coffee, please. Black as the darkest obsidian. And another slice of this cherry pie, if you don't mind."

Lazy Susan picked up his now empty plate. "One coffee and slice number three coming right up," she smiled as she walked away.

Blubs looked Coop up and down. "How you can eat so much and still be in such good shape?"

"A fair question," the agent replied cheerily. "I like to credit a regimen of meditation, exercise, and an active mind. Of course, a naturally fast metabolism is always a plus. Thank you, Susan," he said as a fresh plate of pie and a mug full of black coffee landed in front of him.

"I met a guy from Philly once," Blubs commented as he took another bite of his own pie. "He stayed in Gravity Falls for a bit. He was a pretty strange guy, if I remember correctly. Don't remember why he was here. I think he said something about the military, but I forget. Durland, you remember that guy's name? You know, the one who had that thing about caves?"

"Hm…" Durland thought hard before responding, "I can't recall his last name, but I think his first was Win-something…"

"Windom Earle!" Blubs exclaimed, his memory suddenly returning.

Involuntarily, Coop dropped his fork and sat straight up. He stared at Blubs for a moment, then asked, "How…what…what was he doing here?"

"Oh, not much," Blubs shrugged. He took another bite of his pie, oblivious to the concerned look on Coop's face. "He was in town for about a week many years ago. He was a researcher, he said. I guess he didn't find what he was looking for, since nobody heard from him after he left. Heh, I suppose I only remember him because he was such a strange guy. Insisted on exploring every single cave in the area. Weirdo." He paused, then asked, "You know him?"

"No," Agent Cooper lied, looking back down at his third slice and focusing entirely on it. "Philadelphia's a big city."

Blubs nodded understandingly. "Must be nice. Around here, everybody knows everybody."

"That's part of the appeal of small towns," Coop said, picking up his fork again and continuing to eat his pie. "I always like the feel of them. They're so friendly and genuine."

"You been in a lot of small towns?" the sheriff asked.

Coop hesitated before answering, "Well, sort of. I was assigned to one in Washington, close to the Canadian border. It was a pretty special little place, I'll tell you that."

"Well, I hate to disappoint you," Blubs said, "but Gravity Falls isn't very special. That Windom Earle guy didn't think so, and neither has anyone else since."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, Blubs," Agent Cooper said, pulling out his notebook. "I know you keep saying that there's no mystery here, but I found some things in and near the Mystery Shack today that point toward something unusual. I can't say what yet, but there's definitely something going on there."

Blubs chuckled. "Are we really going through this again? Stanford Pines has been living there for thirty years, and all he's ever done is run a tourist attraction. Ask anybody!"

Durland added, "And it's a nice tourist attraction too! The Plaid-ypus is my favorite!"

The sheriff looked over at his deputy with a warm smile. "Durland, you have exquisite taste. You know what I used to love at the Mystery Shack before they got rid of it?"

"What, Blubs?" Durland asked. "The wax people?"

"Naw, those gave me the creeps. I always liked the Corn-icorn."

Durland gasped aloud. "Me too! It was so amazing!"

While the sheriff and deputy continued reminiscing about their favorite Mystery Shack exhibits, Agent Cooper drank his extra black coffee and studied his findings in his notebook. First, his dream had given him the string of letters. Next, he had seen the string of numbers in the Shack. Then, there was that window. He could not think why it stood out to him, but there had to be a reason. Last of all, there was that secret compartment in the woods. What did it all mean?

He heard the door swing open behind him and turned his head to see Dipper Pines walk in. He sat in a booth and placed a large box on the table, slumping over disappointedly. Something about the boy's body language gave the agent a feeling that he could use some company. Besides, the agent thought, he may know something. "Excuse me, gentlemen," Coop said. He stood up, still carrying his coffee mug, and walked over to where the lone boy sat, leaving the other two to continue talking to each other as if he had never existed.

"Hello, Dipper," he said with a friendly grin. "Mind if I join you?"

Dipper looked up, surprised. "Oh…oh yeah, sure. Be my guest, man."

"Okay." Agent Cooper slid into the other side of the booth. "What are you doing here all alone?"

"I bought a game at the store," Dipper replied, "but apparently everyone else thinks it's too nerdy to play. Mabel says it has too much math, Soos is more into FCLORP, whatever that means, and Grunkle Stan just finds the whole thing ridiculous. Wendy comes in here a lot, so I thought I'd ask her to play it with me, but she's not here, so now I guess I'll head back…"

"What game is it?" Coop asked before the boy could leave.

Dipper turned the box around so the top graphics faced Agent Cooper. The man's face lit up. "Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons!" he exclaimed. "I remember playing that when I was a kid!"

"Really?" Dipper couldn't believe it. For the first time today, somebody else actually liked his favorite game. Even better, it was the FBI agent who he'd been so interested in before. "That's awesome! Literally nobody else was interested in it besides me."

"Absolutely shameful," Coop said, shaking his head. "Then again, I did lose interest a bit when the designers decided to make it 'cooler'."

"Probabilitizzle?" Dipper asked.

The FBI agent nodded. "Probabilitizzle. It's supposed to be a game about magic, not…whatever that was."

Dipper let out a low whistle. "The nineties must have been a weird time."

"Oh, they were," Agent Cooper agreed. "Plenty of strange things were made around then. Some of them great masterpieces, and some of them more like Probabilitizzle."

"I hear you." Dipper looked down at the mystical graphics of the game's box. "Thankfully, they went back to the classic fantasy style. They updated all the spells and monsters for the newest version, too."

"Oh really?" Coop asked. "Did they bring back the Impossibeast?"

"No way!" Dipper assured him. "They'd never bring that one back. They want the game to be challenging, not impossible."

"Good." Agent Cooper paused to take another sip of his coffee, then continued, "It looks like a fine game. I'm sure you'll find someone to play it with you."

Dipper looked up hopefully. "What about you? Would you want to play it with me?"

Agent Cooper hesitated, honestly tempted, but knew he had to refuse. "I'm sorry, Dipper," he said, "but Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons can last for days, weeks even. I'm here on an investigation. I may have some leisure time, but not nearly enough for that." He paused, then added, "Speaking of the investigation, didn't you say you liked mysteries?"

"Yeah, I think so," the boy replied. "Why?"

Agent Cooper looked around the diner. Lazy Susan was back in the kitchen, the sheriff and deputy were still discussing old Mystery Shack exhibits, and the only other customers were a couple of bikers at the far end of the counter. He placed his notebook on the table so that the numbers and letters faced Dipper. "Have you ever seen either of these patterns before?" he asked.

Dipper scooted forward in his seat and studied them both closely for a few moments. "No," he answered finally. "At least, I don't think so. What are they?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," the agent told him. "The letters were given to me in a dream, and the numbers were carved into one of the walls of the Mystery Shack. I thought perhaps you would have at least seen that one, but—"

"Hold up," Dipper stopped him. "You saw these letters in a dream?"

"Well," Coop clarified, "not exactly. I had a dream that I believe was warning me about something in Gravity Falls, though I'm not yet certain what, and when I awoke, those letters were in my head, in that order. I know it sounds crazy, but in my experience, dreams can be a lot more helpful than most people think. Many messages are passed through the dreamscape." He caught himself, then added self-deprecatingly, "That made absolutely no sense, did it?"

"Wait a minute," Dipper said. "Did you just say 'dreamscape'?"

Cooper blinked, surprised, then replied, "Yes, I did. Why? Have you heard of it?"

Now it was Dipper's turn to look around for listening ears. The diner was still mostly empty, besides Lazy Susan, Blubs, Durland, those random biker guys, himself, and Agent Cooper. He had more than heard of the dreamscape. He had experienced it. He knew that a lot more than just messages could pass through the dreamscape. But how does Agent Cooper know about it? Dipper wondered. If he knows about the dreamscape, he could already know about Bill. Heck, he could even be working for Bill. Or not. He could be just like me, with similar experiences. Either way, he isn't like those other agents. There's more to him than meets the eye. He seems nice and trustworthy enough, but the things I know about Bill and the dreamscape are too important to risk getting out, especially to a government agent. I shouldn't tell him. At least, not until I know whose side he's on.

"No," the boy quickly lied. "I just thought it sounded interesting."

"Oh, okay." Agent Cooper had a feeling Dipper wasn't being completely honest, and couldn't help being a bit disappointed. The mystery-loving boy reminded him of himself when he was young, at least a bit. Still, he knew now was not the time to press the issue. Making Dipper get defensive would be of no help to anyone. He tried to remain outwardly cheerful. "Well, however I found them, they probably mean something. You're sure you've never seen them before?"

Dipper shook his head, this time being honest. "I don't know what to tell you, man. They don't make any sense to me." Feeling a little bad for lying to the very friendly man, Dipper decided to give the letters and numbers one more look. "Hm…they could be cipher."

"A what?"

"A cipher. Like a code. There are a lot of them out there. I think Atbash and Caesarian are the most common, but there are plenty more, some I haven't even heard of. If I were you, I'd try a few of those out and see if any of them make sense."

Coop took the notebook back and looked at the numbers and letters himself. "A cipher. Brilliant. Thank you, Dipper. You may be onto something."

"No problem." He picked up his game and added as he slid out of the booth, "I guess I'll head home and try to find someone else to play this game with me. Hopefully it doesn't come to Gompers and Waddles, but I might be desperate enough."

The agent looked confused. "Gompers and Waddles?"

"Stan's pet goat and Mabel's pet pig," Dipper explained. "Well, see you later, Agent Cooper!"

"See you later, Dipper!" he waved back as the boy walked away. "Oh, and Dipper," he added, stopping him as he began to open the door.

"Yeah?"

"I know a budding conspiracy theorist when I see one," Coop told him. "There's a lot more to this world than anyone knows. Never assume."

Dipper nearly dropped the box in his hands. That was the most encouraging thing he had heard since Ford had returned from his interdimensional travels. "Wow," he said, his voice cracking embarrassingly. "I mean, um, thanks. Whoa!" he exclaimed as he stumbled through the swinging door and was almost hit by it on the way out.

Agent Cooper smiled and drank his hot, black coffee. He liked Dipper. Dipper was a good kid. A good kid who definitely hiding something, but still a good kid. The FBI agent could already tell they were going to be seeing a lot of each other, and, he hoped, were on track to becoming good friends.