Your new neighbors must hate you by now. You've been struggling to push this last box for well over ten minutes, and the horrible grinding sound it's been making has surely reverberated out your open apartment door and down the hall several times by now. You're starting to wonder if you should just give up and live the rest of your life with this box in your living room.

"Need a hand?" A smooth, teasing voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you turn to lay your eyes on the most handsome man you've ever seen, leaning against your open apartment door. He's tall, broad-shouldered, with messy dark hair and a cheeky smirk to match. His bright blue eyes survey your apartment before focusing back on you and the troublesome box by your feet.

"I- uh." You blink at him, dumbfounded. "Yeah. Yeah, that would be great."

He chuckles at your response, stepping forward and squattng to get a good hold on the box. "My name's Dick, by the way. I live across the hall." He nods toward the door opposite yours. "Figured I'd check out the commotion."

Dick gives you a cheeky grin and picks up the box like it's filled with feathers, moving it over to where the rest of the boxes are stacked against the wall. He sets it down almost as easily as he'd picked it up, then resumes leaning against your wall like he hadn't just moved an incredibly heavy box without breaking a sweat.

"So," he begins, his voice a playful drawl, "need help with anything else?"