You banged your head against the desk, making your laptop shudder.  You were officially one month into your mission, and you hadn't even located Bill Cipher, much less terminated him.  The Time Anomaly Prevention Squadron was not going to be pleased.

You sighed and opened up your computer again, flicking through the open tabs. There had to be a lead in here somewhere, you couldn't give up now. Secret Orgins of the Illuminati. Interesting, but no substantial evidence. A History of Gravity Falls. The natives sure were obsessed with the otherworldly triangle, but it wasn't nearly modern enough to help your search.

You rubbed your temples in irritation. Great. Another dead end. Frowning, you shut your computer harder than intended. This was going nowhere. You needed a break.

Shrugging your trusty grey hoodie on, you grabbed your wallet and walked out of your sketchy apartment, trying to ignore the stench of pot coming from the next room.  You unintentionally held your breath as you walked past and out the main door.

Your mind refused to stop thinking about your assignment as you strolled along the town's streets. Kill the most powerful creature known to humankind in two months. It didn't matter that you were a novice and had no prior experience, someone had to take Blendin Blandin's place after his arrest, and guess who that lucky person was.

Ting!

A small bell above the door jingled as you went inside the small grocery. You glanced at the feeble contents of your wallet and sighed. You only had enough currency for a bag of snacks. You lifted your arm out of the pocket to see a huge rip, right in the middle of your favorite hoodie.  This day was going down the drain.

"Hmm, black with a zipper, or black with grey stitches?" An angsty teen, about nineteen in skinny jeans, compared two hoodies, with seemingly no difference in their plain design. His other jacket laid forgotten on the rack next to him, identical to the others with the exception of a large heart design.

"Uh, what's wrong with the the one you have?" You pointed to the discarded one.

The goth rolled his eyes dramatically and flipped his overgrown hair. "That one doesn't display my true personality. I'm a dark and tortured soul who doesn't feel love for anyone or anything."

You blinked. "O-Kay then. Good luck with, ah, finding your true match."

He nodded dismissively. "I don't need your help finding my true expression. No one understands me!" The angsty teen threw his hands in the air and staked off, leaving all three jackets in a pile on the floor.

You picked up the one he originally had and ran your fingers over the design, taking in the stitched heart. You couldn't wear your own hoodie anymore, so there wasn't any harm in trying it on... right? Impulsively, you threw the black one over your head and took a quick look at your reflection in the window. You were pleasantly surprised, it didn't look half bad, and it suited you rather well. Once you got rid of the overpowering smell of body spray, it would be a pretty nice replacement. It wasn't technically stealing if he was getting rid of it in the first place.

Smiling to yourself and enjoying the comfiness of your new hoodie, you absentmindedly grabbed the last bag of Burrito Bites and turned towards the checkout.

"This can't be true! There's no more tiny bites of deliciousness!"

You whipped around to see a chubby man in his early twenties on his knees on the verge of tears. A teenager in a sweater ran to catch up with him, a girl around seventeen years old or so. "Calm down, Soos! Use the meditative breathing skills Abuelita taught you."

"I-I can't! Mr. Pines is in danger, and I don't have my favorite snack to de-stress!" He buried his head in his hands.

You glanced down at the brightly colored package in your hand and back at the man. Looks like someone was having a rougher day than you were. "Uh, here. You can take mine." You awkwardly held out the Burrito Bites.

His eyes positively sparkled.  "You have saved my life, I am eternally greatful."  He hesitantly took the snack from you, then proceeded to tear it open and wolf then down.

"I should probably pay for that," the sweater girl said, fidgeting uncomfortably.  Her chestnut hair fell over her eyes, despite being held back by a matching headband.

"Don't worry about it," you said, pulling out the last dollar you had.  "It looks like someone needed it more than I did." 

"That's one way of putting it.  Thanks for that, he's Soos, and I'm Mabel.  But you can call me the girl of your dreams."  She gave an over exaggerated wink and stuck out her hand. 

You laughed as you shook it.  "Call me Y/N.  Sorry for being blunt, but I don't think you're my type."

She shrugged, not offended.  "Your loss."  Her eyes suddenly went wide.  "Oh, crap!  We've got to get back to the Shack!"  Mabel hurriedly attempted to pull Soos up, her flats slipping on the tile. 

You grabbed his other arm and managed to get him to his feet.  "What's the big rush?" 

She froze as her eyes darted across the room.  Mabel spoke slowly, as if choosing her words very carefully.  "My great-uncle isn't right in the head, and he just took a turn for the worse.  I just hope my brother knows what to do."

You raised an eyebrow, concerned.  "And how old is your brother?"

"Seventeen, turning eighteen."

You shook your head.  "Look, I won't pretend to be an expert, but I know some basics of mental health.  I can come and check him out if you like, see how bad it is." 

Mabel seemed conflicted, but nodded.  "We need all the help we can get." 

You spread your arms out.  "Lead the way, and I'll see what I can do."