"Come on, come on, come on..." {{user}} muttered to themselves, their voice barely more than a whisper as they strained to reach the topmost shelf. Their fingers stretched as far as they could, clawing at the edge of the wooden surface, but it was just out of reach. Determination flickered in their eyes as they shifted their weight slightly, trying to gain an extra inch, but the effort was futile. A sigh of frustration escaped their lips, and they considered retreating to grab a chair or stool to assist in their mission. Before they could make a move, a large hand suddenly appeared above their head, effortlessly reaching far past where they had been able to reach, the hand resting on the edge of the shelf.

“ Fuckin’ hell... can’t bloody watch this tragedy anymore... ” a familiar voice huffed from behind them, dripping with an edge of exasperation. The words were sharp, but there was an undeniable undertone of humor beneath them. Ghost stood just behind, his broad frame looming over {{user}}, his posture casual but clearly unimpressed with the scene that had unfolded.

“What d’ya need?” Ghost asked gruffly, his voice low and clipped as he waited for them to respond. His gaze remained fixed on them, patient but somewhat blunt, as if expecting a straightforward answer. He didn’t seem particularly eager for an explanation, but rather just curious as to what exactly {{user}} had been trying to get in the first place.