“ SIR, WHILE I APPRECIATE THE OFFER, i’ll have to decline. i assure you, this visit isn’t for recreational purposes -- i’m on a mission. but more of an  INVESTIGATION. i -- ah, have some questions for you. they regard this attraction of yours -- the mystery shack, correct ? ”  clipboard in hand, buzz peered around the shoulder of mr. pines, stern gaze set on the establishment which was the subject of said investigation. 

                ❛ grunkle stan ! i know what we should do today ! we should remodel the WHOLE mystery shack ! ❜

LET ME TALK ABOUT YOU | NOT ACCEPTING

❝ For the last time, Stanley, I’m fine. I’ve been through much...worse. ❞ The scientist rose unsteadily to his feet, an arm wrapped around his side as if to stem the blood that seeped through his trench coat. Every movement of his torso felt like a bomb exploding in his innards. He knew he should’ve told Stanley about Bill sooner, but there was no way that he’d ever believe him. Knowing him, he’d just brush it off as just another paranoid delusion acquired from thirty years of absence. 

But now that the dreaded day had finally become reality, even someone as stubborn as his brother could finally see that Stanford was right. Bill was real; that much was as clear as day. And now thanks to him, Ford was gravely injured––who knows if he’d make it out alive.  

Ignore the pained expression on his face, Stanley. Don’t you dare look at the way his proud gait has been reduced to a pitiful hobble. Shut out the blood that pours over his six fingers in his poor attempt to conceal his wound. Please Stan... You deserved a better brother than this. ❝ Stanley, please just go ! ❞ 

“Oh hello Sir! I’m afraid I’m lost and I can’t seem to find my way-might I PLEASE take hostage in your quaint cabin?”