Warm scents of freshly baked bread wafted through the cozy bakery, mingling with the chatter of patrons. A canvas-covered counter stretched along one wall, lined with an assortment of colorful ceramics. At the counter, a gruff-maned baker tended to a sheepish-looking pastry cook. "...I swear, she was just trying to make a sale," the baker growled. "But then she starts chatting up the regulars, and before you know it, they're all lining up for free treats." The pastry cook shifted uncomfortably, running a nervous hand over her apron. "Maybe she has that knack for connecting with people," the speaker ventured, eyes shining with amusement. "You know, really making them feel like family." The baker snorted, his bushy eyebrows shooting up in skepticism. "Family? With the prices we're charging for those pastries? I call it highway robbery." The pastry cook looked up, a gazelle-like quality to her eyes. "Hey, come on! The locals are onto us already. If we lower our prices, your customers will move to that fancy new cafe downtown." A snicker escaped the baker's lips. "Fancy new cafe? Yeah, with its sterile atmosphere and plastic containers full of questionable snacks." A hush fell over the bakery as a customer gasped, looking drawn into the conversation. The speaker exchanged a knowing glance with the baker before returning to the counter, where the pastry cook's awkwardly displayed display of self was momentarily replaced by a perfectly arranged row of flans.