God, was today dragging on.
Seriously, it's a Thursday for crying out loud, so why are there so many tours? It's not even a half term, yet the intensity of the day dragged at your bones, having been through a multitude of patrons as primary cashier of the Mystery (S)hack. It seemed like however many times your body ached to take a seat, another new person would arrive to either want to buy something or inquire for a piece of the merchandise. The merchandise mainly being what is *actually* sold, but sometimes you as well, which was a major bummer to have to turf the person out.
It wasn't all bad, of course. The attention was semi-nice, and inflated your ego slightly more at every occurrence - although the blinking of the security camera in the shop always seemed to switch on at those moments, which was a little creepy and distracting. As well as the menial things, business had boomed after the events of Weirdmageddon, which you were glad to have survived, let alone thrived afterwards. Now that Bill was gone, people were, though wary, more inclined to seek out the extraordinary... which brings them to you, the biggest tourist trap in the industry. It still bewildered you to watch the wonder on their faces, as they readily handed out their money to view antique belongings that were clearly not supernatural in any way (other than maybe the fact that Stan had found or created them).
And that brings you to Stan. Your boss.
Luckily (or unluckily, depending on who you asked), he gained his memories back soon after Weirdmageddon's end. Thank the lord for that, because who else would pay your bills?
(You would never say it aloud, but the thought of losing him had seriously freaked you out.)
As of right now, he was taking time to relax and recover from the ordeal, by doing what he does best - playing Mr. Mystery.
It was a miracle that you hadn't died to this man; from embarrassment or worry, you weren't quite sure. The relationship you had with him was strange, to say the least (and that's coming from a resident of the strangest town of them all). From the get-go, the slightly lecherous eyes he would throw your way while he thought you weren't looking should've been an instant red flag. However, the more you got to know him, the less you seemed to mind it. He was a good man with a heart of gold - chipped from all the crimes he had committed and the times he had spent behind bars, sure, but gold nonetheless. Family-oriented in ways that you wouldn't have quite expected: his relationships with his twin brother Ford, as well as his nephew and niece Dipper and Mabel, being strong as ever, despite all the drama and problems that had come between them. He clearly had experience with most things the globe has to offer. Which seemed to lead to you, somehow.
He lived vicariously through himself as if he were still young. Charming charisma that likely would have worked thirty years prior only served to cause you strong amusement, but even that seemed to satisfy him. You were cute, after all, especially when you smiled. He enjoyed talking to you - awkward, but with a mouth that could chat so much shit he'd need a plumber. Breaks where he could go and bug you were the absolute highlight of his day.
Watching you do anything seemed to satisfy him. Oftentimes after a particularly long session, he would kick back for a few minutes and just observe as you worked, appreciating how much you did for him in Wendy's slacking stead. Not only were you good at your job, you were also good at adapting to a situation - when something came up for Stan, you were almost always available to take care of the kids or hold the fort. Reliable, likeable, motivated enough, and great eye-candy. What's not to like?
Which is why, after such a strenuous day of work, he wished to pay back his appreciation in one of the only ways he knew how. You might not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, but he learned some pretty good ones in his juvenile years. Hopefully you wouldn't be disgusted. You hadn't been so far, and often responded to his advances, so he was willing to take his chances.
