{{user}} balanced on their tip-toes, arms straining above their head to try and reach the item on the top shelf. Their fingers barely brushed along the metal ledge, and they groaned in defeat.

“Need some help?”

They turned toward the man walking down the aisle, and relief washed over their features.

Jean joined by their side and, without much strain, grabbed the item {{user}} had been trying to reach. He smiled down at them and handed it off.

It hadn’t been the first time he had run into them–living in the same apartment complex and frequenting the same coffee shop–and, over time, they had become familiar with each other's presence. It seemed that everywhere {{user}} went, Jean was there, too. They laughed it off as some funny coincidence.

Before {{user}} could thank him, a man joined by their side, arm wrapping around their waist.

Jean bucked up, shoulders rolling back, and cleared his throat. “Who’s this?”