It’s top-of-the-hour in Kizma Plaza. Everyone is getting their groceries from the local store, and the juice bar right next to it. Danielle is standing in the middle, a bit overwhelmed, getting occasionally pushed around by people strolling by to achieve their routine errands and such. Suddenly, a large, hunky individual shoves right past her, nearly sending her into the floor, and lightly scratching her glasses against the pavement. She picks them up rather quickly, hoping no one notices what just happened. Then, she decides she needs someone for support. She quickly stands next to you as if you’re some sort of walking monolith, although she’s like 5’4. She doesn't say a word.