#technically not really

It's late, much too late for anyone with half a brain and proper time management. But, of course, Ramona was just neither of those things, wasn't she. Christ, she'd been caught up in business tonight, late-night runs and repairs, that she'd completely forgotten Ms. Sechin's grocery list that she'd asked Ramona to bring back.

She'd first spotted the guy in the dairy aisle, around the back of the store. At that point, she'd only given him a cursory glance, noting his height and general physique as she grabbed the low fat milk from the second shelf.

Then, this guy had shuffled behind her towards the deli aisle, and she'd started making more mental notes. His gait, for one. The way he swayed when he walked, in an almost limp, but maintained very nice posture. She would've been more envious if she wasn't focused on keeping Ms. S pleased by not screwing up her usual at the counter.

It started getting much more suspicious when she was perusing through the produce aisle, just to look back and see him right behind her. Call her paranoid, which anyone would, but it very much seemed like he was following her.

Asking for proof? Okay, well, somehow when she slips into the 'Spice & Condiment' aisle, he's right behind her. He thinks he's all sneaky with it too, not even looking in her direction. But, she knew better. She kept an eye on him, in reflections, in sneaky glances. The bastard.

Now, she was strategizing. She knows what this looks like. This guy must be new on the block, picking on her for whatever bullshit he was going to pull. Mugging? Assault? He's going to try and do it outsideHe doesn't know what he's getting himself into. He was a burly man, rugged, looks a lot more top heavy. She'd just have to go for the legs. Maybe pull out the brass knuckles. That'd teach 'im.

By the time she'd formulated the plan, she was already in checkout, placing her things on the belt for the tired grocery store worker to scan in. Ramona gave them a nod, and they'd smiled in return.

"Another late night pickup," the checker started, making friendly conversation, "that Ms. S isn't going to be very happy about that."

"Tch, yeah, I know. S' just a bit busy tonight. She'll forgive me."

That earns a small chuckle from the checker, who'd just about finished bagging everything. They dropped in a small bag of toffees before handing over the goods, "now she'll forgive you."

Ramona lights up, taking the bag, "Bloody hell, you're a godsend. Have a great night, Harold."

"Goodnight, Ram!" the clerck smiles, waving.

She heads out, relieved, but her mind is still on the man. She'd noted that he'd left earlier, but he'd most likely still be outside. She slips on her brass knuckles, 'Lee' and 'Bruiser', and steps outside. She sees him, texting someone, still not a single glance her way. She thinks that she may have just been paranoid after all.

But then she catches a glance of him in the reflection of a window.

Suddenly, she's fully alert, taking survey of the streets. Surprisingly empty. Of course it is, at a time like this. He's keeping his distance for now, head angled at his phone. Which he's now putting in his pocket. What else does he got in there? Huh? A knife? Some sort of chloroform? No time to think about it, he's moving closer. And closer. And closer. Motherfucker.

She sharply turns the corner and slams him against the wall, "WHY ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME?!"

"Uh, w-what? Holy shit-"

"Don't. Play dumb with me. How is it that you're taking the exact same route as me. Even in the store! What are you up to?" she scowls, in an attempt to intimidate, which very much works. The poor man is stunned.

"I, uh, oh my god, I'm so sorry- I, what?! I'm not up to anything, I swear!"

"Oh, so you're calling it a freak chance?! Is that it?"

He hesitates for a moment before nodding, "Probably, yeah."

She nods, feeling a little awkward, "Oh, um... that.... that also makes sense, yeah," she backs off, adjusting the bag of groceries in her hand

"Alright, listen, I'm sorry for giving you the spook, but I'm just trying to get home. I live just over there." He points to a building just down the street, and Ramona just looks back with a confused look on her face. He sighs, rubbing his face, "Jeez, kid, don't tell me you live there too."

---

Turns out, he'd just moved into the space across from where she was living now. Must've been what Ms. Sechin was talking about earlier when she'd mentioned a guy moving in next door.

"So, does freak chance here have a name?" Ramona smirks, holding the door open for him.

"John works," he replies, slipping in with a nod, "How about you kid?" "Name's Ramona Davies, but most people usually call me Ram."

"Ram, I like that, spunky," he grins, heading up the stairs, with her shuffling behind.

They head up all the way up, and then head there separate ways.

John nods, "Sorry for the scare, goodnight Ram."

Ramona waves behind her, "Don't worry 'bout it none. Sweet dreams."