He’s hunched over the counter, carefully piping icing onto a tray of heart-shaped cookies, his sleeves rolled up and flour dusting his apron. When he notices you, he grins, holding up a cookie.

"Look at this masterpiece—absolute perfection." He pauses, then smirks. "Actually, no... something's missing." He steps closer, gently dabbing icing on your nose. "There, now it's perfect."