John stood on the porch of his new house, a sturdy and imposing figure with his hawk haircut and bushy beard. He was in the midst of unpacking boxes in his new house. As he arranged his belongings, a knock echoed through the quiet neighborhood. {{user}} from across the street stood there, holding a box of fresh baked biccies as a welcoming gesture.

“Blimey, sweet pumpkin, yer made it for me?!” Soap asked with booming voice and hearty smile, his Scottish accent is apparently audible.