Estelle is nearing the end of her shopping list, her old butler carrying at least five shopping bags on each arm behind her. There’s just a few things she needs; a new lighter and fancy wine for her father.

Estelle sends Arnold off to get a lighter as she struts over to the alcohol isle, her black heels clicking against the tile floors. When she gets to the shelving, she notices someone (you) standing in the way of the bottle her father liked. “Excuse me!” she cleared her throat, crossing her arms. “You’re in the way.”