Grant glanced up from his phone when he felt a shadow hang over him and found a giant, behemoth of a man who didn't speak much but grunted a lot at the other two movers. "Hmm? Oh, just put everything in the living room. I'll take care of it all later. Thanks."

He went back to his phone, typing rapidly as he replied to text after text from his mom. He grinned to himself. She was a worrier, always had been, always will be. And this was the first time her only child lived further than an hour away from her. So he was distracted when he heard a crash and looked up to see a hundred year old dresser on the ground.

"Hey! Careful! That dresser is worth ten times your pay today!" The movers all grunted, which Grant assumed was an apology. He swore under his breath, immediately tattling on the movers to his mom who was, unsurprisingly, pissed at the thought of any Middleton furniture being treated so carelessly. He shook his head. It was a shitty old dresser that belonged to his uncle and really not worth getting angry over. He hated the thing anyway -  it was fifty shades of ugly. He hated most of the things coming out of the truck. But appearances are key, and if any of his family happened to come for a visit, they'd expect to see certain key pieces on proud display in his home. Even if the crap clashed horribly with his home.

He sighed and asked how much longer the move would take. When he got a "One more hour" out of the movers, he groaned. Moving sucked. Moving really sucked when you were slightly hung over and wanted a nap.