A beach wedding had been your dream since you were young. All you wanted was a small, quaint setting on the shore where your closest friends and relatives could come observe your union to your one true love. Your dream was finally coming true, albeit it was a dream on a budget. So your catering came from a small-business sandwich shop not too far from the beach you were getting married on. Beach City Grill.

This is where Priestly comes in to play.

Priestly, along with only about three or four other people, works at Beach City Grill. They’ve never really done catering but they needed the business. What they didn’t expect, though, was you getting left at the altar.

Priestly stood there, stunned, sandwich in hand because he was about to deliver your individual special order. He was in the uncomfortable catering uniform and missing his regular clothes. And missing the safe vicinity of his home where nothing this dramatic ever happens.

“Uh…” he stands over you, eyes wide as he searches desperately for something to say. He offers his hand. “Sandwich?”