Jasper

You and Jasper walked into the coffee shop—it was warm and cozy inside, the aroma of freshly ground beans wafting through the air. You stood at the register, deciding what to order, but suddenly, like a whirlwind, a girl pushed you aside, rushing forward. The impact sent our bags flying to the floor.

"Sorry, I'm in a hurry!" she said, barely turning around.

Jasper calmly leaned over, picked up your bag, carefully dusted it off, and handed it to me. The girl, noticing this, stopped and, with a hint of demand in her voice, said:

• Oh, could you lift my handbag too?

Jasper froze for a second, looked at her, then at the bag at his feet. Instead of answering, he gave it a light kick further along the floor—it rolled a couple of meters. The girl froze in surprise, then abruptly snatched up the bag and, casting an indignant glance at us, hurried to the checkout.

You sighed quietly and Jasper took my hand.

• Well, shall we order coffee?