The moment Pacifica Northwest turned away from him and walked down the hall, Dipper averted his gaze from the wooden paneled hallway to the girl that was walking away. He was told not to look at the Northwest's. Preston Northwest had told him and his sister not to look at or make eye contact with him or his wife or his daughter. Dipper and Mabel had both been desperate for work, they weren't going to let a broken rule risk them of losing this job. But Dipper couldn't tear his eyes away from her.

They had only been in Gravity Falls for two short days before they'd heard of a job opening at the Northwest Manor. Mabel had been more eager than him. She was more than honored to work for the most famous people in the West. Though he couldn't have felt more against the decision. Dipper, while walking around town, had heard terrible news from the people who were fired from the Manor on a daily basis. He didn't want his sister or him to get hired but then only to lose the job the next day. But they needed the money, and they didn't have the time to wait around for a decent job to come their way.

So here he was, standing in front of the doorway to the bedroom of the heiress of the Northwest fortune. And walking away from him and his sister was the heiress herself. Dipper wanted to look away, he was disgusted with this way of living. Real pride should come from hard work and labor, not waltzing around in formal attire ordering people around.

But there was something in the way she moved that demanded his attention. The way her golden hair that cascaded down her back in waves bounced when she walked. The way she maintained her flawless posture anytime she moved. She was perfection on two feet. A sour taste filled Dipper's mouth. He shouldn't have been enamored of her, he should've stuck his nose up at the thought of Pacifica Northwest. But there was something in him that forced him to keep staring.

Pacifica was nearly at the end of the hall when Mabel hissed at him. He tore his gaze from the girl and looked at his sister. She pursed her lips, furrowed her eyebrows and gave a curt shake of the head. Dipper understood what she was saying. Don't, it's not worth risking our job. Getting caught staring at the heiress was not worth getting fired over, and even if his daughter couldn't fire them, he was sure Preston Northwest wouldn't hesitate. Dipper rolled his shoulders back and returned his gaze to the wall, the only thing to do until four o'clock was make friends with the paneling.

When the grandfather clock in the foyer struck three, Mabel left her position in front of the girl's door. Dipper only assumed Mabel was going to attend to the task that Pacifica had requested earlier that day. Dipper was hoping that it wouldn't take an hour to make a cup of tea and that Mabel would return quickly. But neither of them knew where the kitchen was or where the Northwest's kept their tea. He was glad he didn't tag along with his sister, he didn't want to imagine what kind of nightmare the kitchen would've been at this time of day.

It had been nearly half an hour and he gazed down the hall, waiting for the moment his sister would round the corner. Instead of Mabel's dark brown hair and maid uniform he saw blonde hair and a deep pink colored dress. Before Pacifica could notice that he was staring down the hall, he returned his stare to the wall again and waited for her to approach the room. When Pacifica approached the room, Dipper reached for the knob on one of the double doors, pulling it open. Dipper expected Pacifica to walk in her room and he wouldn't have to force his eyes to make eye-contact with the ceiling much longer. But instead the girl stood right outside her open bedroom door.

Dipper wasn't making eye-contact with her, but he could see plenty of her facial features. Her lips were pressed and her manicured eyebrows were drawn together. Her sapphire eyes were narrowed at Dipper. A cold sweat ran down his back. Surely I couldn't have done something wrong. He thought nervously, hoping that the girl wouldn't fire him on the spot for something he wasn't sure he did.

Pacifica straightened her posture and suddenly spoke, her clear voice cutting through the air, shattering the silence that had grown between them. "Is my tea here yet?"

Dipper cleared his throat and replied. "No, ma'am. Mabel will be bringing it to you momentarily."

"Good," she said snidely then turned and walked into her room. Dipper closed the door behind her. When he turned back to the hall, he saw that Mabel was walking toward him, silver platter in her hands.

Dipper opened up Pacifica's door to let Mabel in and stood outside as he waited for his sister. He was lost in thought. He hated his position; he shouldn't have been waiting on people hand and foot, he should be outside getting his hands dirty. But he was subject to look prim and proper and get ordered around all day. What he hated most was that he was enamored of Pacifica. More than anything, he loathed the people that bossed others around and considered themselves hardworking for doing so. But why was he in adoration of a girl whose very future was that? Ordering people around and being waited on was the only thing Pacifica would ever know. Dipper felt a pang of pity for her, she would never know what true pride felt like. Perhaps that was it. He wasn't in adoration of her, he just pitied her. Dipper let out a sigh of relief, he was glad he'd figured out his dilemma of the day.

Mabel exited the room, her posture was somewhat solemn. Dipper closed the door and Mabel began to speak in a hushed voice. "She likes toast with cherry preserves and scrambled eggs and a tea pot with Earl Grey tea for breakfast. She likes lavender oil and rose hips in her baths every morning. And her sheets are to be changed every two days as well as the room is to be dusted every afternoon." Mabel finished, her brown eyes low. Dipper was surprised that he hadn't heard Pacifica rambling off to his sister, but he was so deep in thought.

Dipper knew that the Northwest's were demanding and he should've expected a lot of work, but there was still a hint of disappointment between the two. His "adoration" for Pacifica Northwest tugged at his heartstrings. He kept telling himself that he was here for work and money and nothing else. And though he firmly thought he pitied the girl for not knowing the real world, he felt his heart slowly betraying him.

I think maybe the western genre was misinterpreted. I don't know what defines this as a western but because this story takes place during the 1830's and in the west, I just put it under the western genre. I will definitely include aspects of western culture and lifestyle but I don't know about gunslingers or outlaws (Sorry). I might include it as a backstory thing, but I've already got a plot laid out.

Sorry this AN is so long, just had to clarify that. I'm really liking this story and I'll probably update every Thursday or Friday.

Thank you for reading!

-Eva