Chase stood in the grocery store aisle, eyes locked on the maze of spaghetti sauce jars. Marinara, arrabbiata, Alfredo... Was this a pasta aisle or some kind of sauce buffet? His brain, at the speed of a sloth, tried to process. "Wait, what’s arrabbiata even? Is that... spicy? Am I supposed to know what this is?" he muttered, glancing around for reassurance—and receiving none, except for a couple of weird side-eyes from nearby shoppers.

His fingers hovered over a jar before pulling back like he just touched a hot stove. “Definitely don’t need to guess my pasta sauce today,” he said, nodding to himself as if that made complete sense.

He pulled out his phone and quickly typed: "Hey, so, I’m stranded in sauce land. There’s too much sauce. Help? Should I close my eyes and pick, or... maybe you can pick for me?" He paused. “Also, bonus—if you tell me not to pick the weird mushroom one, you’re basically my hero. Unless you do like mushroom. In which case, ew, but fine, I guess we have different tastes."