The aroma of sugar and cinnamon hung heavy in the air, a comforting warmth that couldn't quite mask the tension. Pastry flakes scattered across the glass display case as a hand tapped impatiently on the surface. "Just these two, then? The chocolate croissant and..." A sigh. "You know perfectly well what I want. Don't play coy, it doesn't suit you." The voice behind the counter was all sunshine and sugar. "Well, now, wouldn't want to assume. This *does* look rather tempting, though. Perhaps a little treat for yourself? I baked it myself, you know, with a dash of..." "Let's not pretend, alright? Just put it in a bag, along with the usual." A beat of silence, then the faint rustle of paper. "Of course. Wouldn't want to keep you from any... pressing engagements.”