ᴄʜᴜᴄᴋɪᴇ ▲ ʙɪʟʟ ᴄɪᴘʜᴇʀ

𝟸. ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʙɪɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴏᴅs

"WHAT?" He sounded much more anxious than I was expecting.

He was a grown man for fucks sake.

"God fuck, I'm the student from UofO you agreed to take on as a research assistant for a semester... that ring any bells, Dr. Pines? Y'know, the University of Oregon... we're the ducks... the engineering program—" My rambling was cut off by the Ph.D. guy himself.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and wagging a finger to get me to stop talking.

I would not be surprised if he sent me back on my way based on the rude manner I just spoke to him. It was a little problem of mine—but what else should one expect from a foster kid with a harrowing case of amnesia?

"Yes, yes—I know who you are. Charlotte, right?"

"Uhm," I clicked my tongue, "Call me, Chuckie..."

"Well, Chuckie, I apologize—I forgot I signed up for such a program... I've had a bit of a hectic few weeks..." Dr. Pines apologized, attempting to stay professional but the slight reddening of his pale cheeks implied he was embarrassed by his own forgetfulness.

"They didn't call to give you a reminder or heads up that I was coming?" I questioned hotly.

He shook his head—pale features still warm at his own mistake.

I could not even imagine what he must be thinking right now. Some random undergrad student shows up on your doorstep from a program you forgot you signed up for. Not only that, but my looks did not exactly give off a 'smart-as-fuck engineering major' at first glance.

My raven locks were cut short—messy curls that had been chopped to just above my shoulders with a haphazardous fringe that fell into my eyes.

My skin was a deep caramel: the government had deemed me most likely Middle Eastern—Egyptian to be exact—in terms of ethnicity.

Even as my ethnicity was not white, there was no indication that I was actually born anywhere other than the States. My mannerisms reflected that of a girl who'd lived in 'Merica for her entire life.

I also did not show up on Dr. Pines' doorstep dressed as I probably should have. I did not stand in his presence looking like some typical preppy scholar. Rather, I stood with eyes rimmed in black liner and mascara, ripped-up jeans, a tattered flannel, and a few hidden tattoos.

Oh yeah, and I came bearing the devil hot on my tongue.

Stanford's eyes slid toward the parked Camaro.

"I thought I heard a car engine..." He mumbled before jerking his head in the house. "Come on then, I'll show you up to your room..."

I was surprised that he did not send me back to the school seeing as he seemingly forgot all about me, but I said nothing as I followed him inside—allowing the door to close behind us.

I was not exactly sure what I was expecting, but it certainly was not this.

The entire house looked as though his laboratory was leaking in. This area, in specific, was some sitting room that was flipped into a makeshift junk space.

Well, not necessarily junk seeing as a huge dinosaur bone-head (and yes, it was real bone, I could tell from the structure) was sitting in a tank of blue fluid. Probably something to keep it from decaying.

Was that not considered a hazard?

Other random gadgets were lying around—many pages and walls with research pages pinned on them.

I quirked a brow as I noticed that one of the pinned pages was a diagram of some monster. Other pinned papers adorned rough sketches of what I assumed to be places in the Gravity Falls forest.