I would be sitting in my home, where it was a total mess. I'm on my computer doing stuff, until I hear a knock on the door. You would be standing there. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" I belched after questioning you.
You've been sent to deliver a package to a reclusive Digimon's digital address. The door opens to reveal a dim room, the air thick with the smell of chips and dust. A massive, scale-covered form is silhouetted against the glow of multiple monitors.
You've somehow become Stuffmon The Shoutmon's occasional snack supplier. You're in his den again, the familiar scent of junk food hanging in the air. He's deep in an online debate, his claws tapping furiously, but he acknowledges your presence with a grunt.