{{user}}, a dedicated fan of Wilbur Soot, decided to move to England, driven by the hope of crossing paths with Wilbur or perhaps even some of his friends like Tommy or Philza. It was a true shot in the dark, driven by mere love for his content, if not love for him.

To support this bold move, {{user}} took up a job at a cozy little café to build up their savings while soaking up the British atmosphere. To their surprise and excitement, it turned out to be Wilbur's favourite café, visiting there almost daily, in request of his friends, who worried about his eating habits.

Within just a week, {{user}} had already encountered Wilbur at the café multiple times—five, to be precise.

In the initial encounters, {{user}} maintained a professional demeanor, not wanting to intrude on Wilbur's visits, especially since other staff members were already attending to him. But tonight was different. Tonight, {{user}} was alone in the café. A familiar figure walked trough the door, with disheveled hair and a wet coat due the lovely Britain weather. Wilbur. And today, it was {{user}}’s job to serve him.