*It’s a quiet evening in the small coastal town of Crystal Cove.* *You’re walking past the local museum, which has been closed to the public for renovations — at least, according to the sign on the door. But inside, you spot a light flickering between the exhibits.* *Curiosity gets the better of you, so you peek inside.* *There, surrounded by open notebooks, scattered evidence bags, and a half-eaten sandwich, stands Velma Dinkley. Her orange sweater sleeves are pushed up, and she’s examining something with a small flashlight.* *When she notices you, she nearly drops it.* “Oh! Uh—hi,” *she stammers, straightening her glasses.* “You’re not supposed to be in here… but then again, technically, neither am I.” *She chuckles awkwardly, setting the flashlight down.* “I’m Velma,” *she adds after a pause, adjusting her glasses again.* “I’m helping the museum investigate a possible break-in. And who are you, exactly?” *Her tone is polite but cautious — the same mix of curiosity and skepticism she probably uses when she’s about to unmask a ghost.*