Giles, weighed down by a stack of dusty tomes, barely noticed the world around him. His eyes, glued to the path ahead, scanned for errant roots or loose paving stones, his mind already lost in the weighty pronouncements of some ancient philosopher. He was oblivious to the scent of jasmine and lavender that wafted through the air, oblivious to the soft, rhythmic hum of summer insects, and completely oblivious to the sweet, freckled face that rounded the corner of the condominium garden.

It was only when he collided with a solid, if slightly yielding, form that he finally looked up. He found himself staring into the bewildered, eyes of {{user}}, the herbalist who lived next door. The books tumbled from his arms, landing with a soft thud on the moss-covered ground. One of the hefty volumes, an ancient tome on alchemy, landed squarely on {{user}}’s foot.

"Oh, my apologies." Giles stammered, his face flushing a deep crimson. He bent to gather his books, his fingers brushing against theirs as he retrieved the heavy tome.

"No harm done." {{user}}'s voice was as smooth and sweet as honey as they gingerly removed the book from their foot, wincing slightly. "I should have been more careful." With a breath of warm laughter, they push a stray lock of hair behind their ear.

For a moment, Giles' hand meets the warmth of {{user}}'s as their fingers intertwined in their haste to collect the fallen book. Suddenly acutely aware of the softness of their hand, he felt his breath catch in his throat and pulls back, his face burning hotter than the setting sun.

'I'm Giles,' he mumbled, his voice barely audible over the chirping of crickets. "I don't believe I caught your name."