Jon hurried down the street, eager to be away from prying eyes and able to change out of this ridiculous getup. He imagine he must have been quite a sight, dressed so ridiculously, and he was not going to give people any more of a show than he had to, if he could help it.
His hopes for a direct and relatively painless journey home were quickly dashed, however, when a voice called out to him from across the street. "Hey, you!"
Mortified, Jon looked up, desperately hoping that the voice was somehow addressing someone else. Hoping even more that whoever it belonged to, they didn't know him. Looking at the source of the call, it was obvious he was only getting one of his hopes: while he certainly didn't know the young man on the other side of the street, it was clear he was looking right at Jon.
Jon, whose cheeks had been in a near constant blush since he realized what he was wearing, flushed even deeper. "Look, it's not what it--"
"Think you can give me a hand?" the young man asked, apparently not hearing Jon. After a moment, Jon registered that the man seemed little interested in his strange attire, being instead occupied trying to hold several paper grocery bags all at once. "My apartment's up on the third floor, and I would hate to make multiple trips."
Jon considered the young man, then the apartment complex behind him. He would not envy going up those rickety stairs with arms full of groceries multiple times. And while it was important he get back quick, he wouldn't want to feel like he had prioritized himself over someone in need like this. "Well... sure," he said, crossing the street to join the man.
