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IT WASN'T THE FIRST TIME SOMEONE HAD LINGERED IN THE AFTERMATH OF THEIR SET, but something about the way he talked didn't sit right with star. it was how he meandered, or sank into the concrete ── it might've even been how he smelled. somehow it all just added up to this empty feeling in the pit of her stomach that got worse the more she looked at him. his brown eyes might've lingered, but hers didn't. they flitted every which way, and landed somewhere behind her shoulder.

          " WELL, THERE ISN'T, " star kept her arms crossed in front of her like she was cold despite the eighty degree nights they'd been having. the radio-lady had said something about air currents blowing in from japan, whatever that was supposed to mean.

she kind of sounded distant, or angry even, only she didn't look it at all when she turned back to him. not even a little bit. " it is way passed closing; you need to go, " she said. then she held out her hand. " but i'll go with you a ways if you get started ── final offer? "

whatever ease had been sitting in shaggy’s shoulders shifted at that. not gone exactly, but rearranged into something quieter, his grin fading by degrees as his eyes followed the nervous path of hers over the garage. for a second, he only looked at the hand she offered him, then back at her face, like he was trying to figure out if it was kindness, a warning, or both.

“yeah,” he answered, softer now, one boot scuffing once against the concrete before he straightened. “alright.” the bag from the sporting goods store crinkled as he grabbed it, the careless weight of flashlights and rope settling against his leg. he didn’t take her hand right away. instead, he gave her the room to take it back if she wanted, thumb rubbing absently over the paper handle as his gaze dipped toward the exit.

“didn’t mean to make you feel cornered or nothin’.” the admission came plain, without the usual joke tucked behind it, though his mouth pulled faintly to one side after a beat. “i get a little slow leavin’ places sometimes.” his eyes flickered back to hers, warm but careful now, knowing better than to step closer just because somebody offered. “but i can start walkin’.”

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       CAMILLE LAUGHED, LOW AND WARM, SETTLING BOTH ELBOWS ON THE COUNTER. “ Honestly? You look like exactly the type to pick up a haunted jewelry box, get a good look at it, fumble it, and unleash something very old and very irritable on the both of us ”, she mused, tilting her head to one side as she considered him, “ And I’ll be straight up with you: that is not on the agenda for today. I've got plans tonight. None of them involve apologizing to an ancient entity because a nice man dropped the wrong trinket on my floor”

She meant it more than her easy tone suggested. After all, she'd cleaned up after that exact kind of curiosity before: A customer who couldn't leave a locked thing locked. It had cost her an evening she'd never got back. Most of the warnings Camille gave people were just for show. Some of them weren't, and she'd stopped being able to tell which ones were taken seriously and which were dismissed as charming nonsense a long time ago.

“ Touch what you like, though. I mean that ”, a small shrug, “ Only thing I ask is if something gives you the creeps, or you catch it moving when it's got no business moving, you leave it where it is and come find me ”

Then, because he'd been the one to bring it up: “ And if you’re here for candlesticks … look at the right-hand wall, behind the mirrors, next to the jars of fun. You'll know them when you see them ”

shaggy’s grin widened at her words, though his hand stayed tucked safely around the strap of his bag - heeding her warning - like camille had just confirmed every instinct that told him there were things in here, that if touched, would become a group project with unfortunate consequences. “see, now, that feels unfairly specific,” he murmured in response, gaze drifting toward the right-hand wall despite himself. certain things in here just felt like they called to him. the mirrors caught little pieces of his appearance as he looked -- a shoulder here, the edge of his jaw there, the wary pull of his mouth as he tried very hard not to seem as interested as he was. “i mean, haunted jewelry box? sure. i can see where you’d get that. i got curious hands. terrible survival trait.”

his boots creaked softly against the floorboards as he took a careful step deeper into the shop - careful being the important word - shoulders angling around a shelf of glass bottles with labels he decided not to read too closely. his attention kept snagging on the objects around them, all that old wood and tarnished metal and sealed-up things that seemed older than the both of them combined. shaggy silently wondered if she owned this place herself, and if she didn't, who did? and how did they come to acquire it?

after a beat, his eyes found hers again, humor softened by something more sincere. “for the record, though, i do listen when pretty girls tell me not to wake up ancient, irritable things.” his mouth twitched, almost sheepish. “especially when they got plans.” with that, he tipped his chin toward the wall she’d pointed him to, already moving that way before stopping short, pivoting back with a sense of curiosity that occasionally got him into trouble. “not that it's any of my business, but anything fun on your agenda? don't tell me it involves the aforementioned jars of fun.”

shaggy was sprawled across the plush floor of the mystery machine, hands busy flapping scooby’s ears between his fingers while the great dane rested his chin heavy against his chest. his brows pulled together at fred’s words, chin turning toward the driver’s seat like he needed to make sure he’d heard him right. “man, it’s got carpet on the walls and smells like old fries.” he gave the inside of the van a careful once-over, gaze dragging over the shag carpet, the crowded gear, the stained upholstery that had survived more spilled drinks and cigarette stains than his chevy pickup. “this thing's rolled through ghost towns, swamp roads, and whatever velma called that smell in ohio. i think it can handle me takin’ a right turn or two.” he gave scooby’s head an affectionate pat before pushing himself upright, all elbows and knees as he climbed toward the middle to wedge himself between the driver and passenger seats. “fries do sound good, though.”

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.