Through the soft classical musical playing in the background, a voice picks up.

"Lovely, isn't it?" The pink-haired café employee speaks, narrow eyes briefly flit up to meet your own— polite but curt request for you to back off evident in tone, a verbal snap of the fingers. You hadn't realized you were starting to lean over the main bar as you watched his deft hands work elegant patterns with thin glaze over a selection of wafers.

"You have been standing there like you've lost your mind for a full 60 seconds." He adds, not unkindly. "...Can I help you?"