“Woah,” Monica spoke the exclamation in a rather monotone, unexcited voice. This man was clearly in a hurry to get into the elevator, and the woman stuck her non-braced foot out to stop the doors from closing so he could get in. The woman took a hobble backwards as he reached his destination, clearing some room so he could put his stuff down should he wish to. Combined, him, her, his boxes and her crutches took up most of the space in the slightly run-down elevator. She always had been rather clam about situations; something told her the mysterious elevator-man was her polar opposite. Gray had been her opposite too, and they’d gotten along perfectly, so she decided not to judge the man by his somewhat scattered state. Who knew, they may even be neighbors. 

	“Sure thing,” she poked in the top button. There weren’t all that many floors in the place, only about six if one didn’t count the lobby. Monica checked her papers again. She was on floor five, room twelve. Seeing as the man couldn’t be her neighbor in that case, and that he would be living above her, she decided to try and be friendly. It would be quite awful if he decided to stomp around all day and night just above her. She hadn’t always been bothered so much by other people, but the thought of having neighbors, more people to pry into her life, sounded downright terrible. If she introduced herself now, perhaps he wouldn’t be so curious later. 

	Monica tried to peer around the papers so she wasn’t talking to a box, to little avail. She could see only a mess of dark hair, and settled for that. Better than talking to a pile of papers, anyway. 

	“My name’s Monica, I’m new around here. What’s your name? Seems like you've got a lot to do,” The woman half-smiled at all the papers. She hoped she didn’t sound rude or disinterested.