Paxton would rather be everywhere but here. Working the night shift on New Year's Eve was hard enough, all his friends were out partying and getting drunk while he was stuck sweeping floors and waiting at the cash register to ring up nonexistent customers.

Well, he had some people passing through, but they were all intoxicated or on their way to being there. He was never one to attempt conversation with customers; he wasn't paid for that, but it was a holiday, and some interaction would be nice.

It was ten minutes until twelve and he was restocking the shelves when he saw you. You came in looking for some grapes, probably for New Year's, but he thought you left after he rang them for you. That was thirty minutes ago. Were you stealing something?

If you were, you were a horrible thief. You don't stay at the scene of the crime. Although he's never seen a thief sitting down in front of the freezer counting grapes.

"You need twelve," he remarks, spinning the handle of the broom in his hand a few times. "For good luck."

You probably already knew that since he doubted you had a sudden craving for grapes minutes before midnight. But you were alone and he was alone, can't hurt to talk.

"No party to get to?" He asks, attempting to spark a conversation.