The townspeople, as reluctant as they were to leave the Pines, couldn't stay underground forever.

A few hours into the gentle revelry, they had to make their way home. Bud had marriage counselling early the next day, Susan had a diner to run, and Manly Dan had been challenged by a local bear to a wrestling match.

He couldn't take another raincheck on that. That bear had it coming.

To make matters worse, Dan had insisted on Wendy, Kevin and Gus coming with. After all, Marcus was cooking dinner. That meant a fine seafood buffet - the half-hair-blinded-teen's specialty.

As a result, while the sun was slowly leaving the surface world, every member of the makeshift army was forced to follow suit.

Susan smiled and gave Stan a kiss on the cheek. "Caaaaaall me!"

"Sure thing, Suse. You uh - you stay steady, huh?"

"I aaaaalways dooooo!" She beamed… before bumping into the doorframe.

Ford winced and tried to ignore the dopey smile on his brother's face. It was probably best not to question the old man's romantic choices. I mean, in the end, Stanley was a good ma- …a dece- …not the wors-

He didn't really know how to finish that sentence. However, there were bigger fish to fry. He turned to his young proteges with his best attempt at excitement.

"So, I suppose it's one of those sleepovers, eh?" The scientist smiled, hands on his hips. "You kids must be uh - must be excited?"

His attempts to show real enthusiasm were almost as falsified as the kids' brave expressions. He cleared his throat and sat down on the worn old mattress next to Mabel, placing a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him. Now that Kevin wasn't here, she was looking distinctly sullen. "Grunkle Ford… I dunno if I like it here."

"Now, sweetie, let's uh - let's try to look on the bright side, okay? We have a roof over our heads, Waddles is here, and we have a plan. You said yourself how brilliant Mr. Trembley is!"

"Sir Lord Mr. Trembley." Mabel corrected with a sage air. "You need to use his titles, Grunkle Ford!"

Ford twisted his lip, doubtfully. "Sir Lord are his actual titles?"

"Sure are," Dipper said, still braiding Pacifica's hair. He'd gotten fairly enthusiastic on the matter. "According to the US Government, anyway."

"Being fair, the Government being the slightest bit well informed is hardly likely, but…how could he be either?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I-"

Ford's musings on the nature of Quentin's heritage were interrupted by the sound of Grunkle Stan loudly popping kettle corn and dishing out cans of Pitt.

Perhaps it was the fact he had just opened up to the townsfolk for the first time in over thirty years, but Stanley was almost confronting their dire situation with a chipper sort of countenance. A stark contrast to his mood earlier.

"I know it's rough, kid." Stan smiled, tussling Mabel's hair. "But we got Mr Binturong's Popsie Corn. Just try ta make it an adventure, huh? I thought ya loved abandoned buildings!"

"But - but - but I can't upload my latest photo journals to Hipstergram, they'll work out where we are!"

"Updawatsit?" Stan blinked. "Look, jus' try and relax, sit down, eat somea this e-number filled crap, drink some sugar and-"

"You do not understand how to make Mabel relax or sit down," Dipper said with his brow furrowed. While it wasn't entirely clear how intentional it was, he raised a chuckle in the rest of the group.

"Look, kids, I gotta level with ya." Stan huffed. "It's rough. It's probably one of the roughest spots we've been in, save the lack of extra-dimensional creature of destruction attemptin' ta eat our skin. But we'll get through this, huh?"

"You really think we've got a chance?" Pacifica piped up. "I mean, Trembley-"

Ford cleared his throat. "Our lawyer may well be a serial streaker who is mentally unstable and liable to ogle woodpeckers. But that's why he's the perfect defender in this town. It isn't perfect, but Mabel's idea is on the money."

Mabel giggled through bloated cheeks full of popcorn. "I ahm the besht!"

"I just hope things aren't going to get any worse," Dipper said. "Trembley is unhinged, sure, but the entire world feels like it is right now. I think stuff is going to get worse."

There was a pause. It was suddenly so quiet, that you could hear rats scrambling around between the floors. Rats or gnomes. Most likely gnomes, not that there was that much difference. Dipper blinked as he looked at his family, each of them ruminating on the matter with a conflicted expression.

All except Stanley, of course.

"Yer bein' paranoid, Dipper." The old grifter replied.

"No, I mean it. Doesn't all this seem kinda… easy, so far? Low stakes?"

"This isn't your fanfiction, Dipper," Mabel replied, poking his arm repeatedly. "It doesn't all have to be super death-defying-y! We're fugitives, aren't we?"

Ford looked less likely to agree with his niece and his brother. "I'd - I'd always recommend being cautious. But for now, at least, I'm not sure what else we can do. Not until we've got some kind of game plan. Perhaps we'd be best strategising for the courts, eh?"

"I don't buy it." Dipper retorted, rubbing his arm. "Something's gotta give."

Pacifica, now with fully braided hair, looked out of the window, hoping to at least catch another glance of her parents to work out what they were up to. She had the worst possible feeling that Dipper's paranoia was completely correct.

She knew, after all, how many links the Northwests really had. And how much wrath they could have when their ire was raised. And there was no doubting Pacifica had done exactly that.

The Northwest heir was beginning to feel undeniably existential following what they'd learnt this Summer. She couldn't shake the feeling that the town had practically been brought to a stretching point. Not just the town, but the place's essence. That kind of bizarre origin story of it all, seemed practically on the brink of coming to the forefront.

In a place full of deep, dark mysteries, the once impenetrable history of the town now seemed stretched into a thin, latex layer of reality. Like a distorted glare through clingfilm. She found herself questioning everything. Finding herself still laden with so many questions.

Was this really how summer was going to end? With a court trial? Or was there much, much worse on the horizon?

She held Dipper's hand and huffed. "Guess we'll find out, hon."

"You guys do realise there are only two mattresses?" Mabel chirped. "You two gonna share a b-"

Mabel was bowled over by a pillow being thrown into her face.