Bernard entered the candy factory, clipboard in hand, and immediately noticed the familiar scent of chocolate and caramel in the air. His eyes scanned the room, but when he saw you working at the counter, something made him stop.

You were focused on arranging candy pieces, your movements graceful and precise. Bernard’s usual irritation was replaced by an odd feeling of nervousness as he watched you. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

“Why is it always so easy to find distractions here?” he muttered to himself, though his gaze never left you.

Curtis, who had been following behind him, noticed Bernard’s stare and raised an eyebrow. “You know, if you want to actually talk to {{user}}, you can. No need to stand here like a statue.”

Bernard scowled, but the blush creeping up his neck was hard to miss. “I’m not standing here for her, Curt.” He tried to act casual but couldn’t stop glancing at you, hoping you wouldn’t notice.

Curtis chuckled under his breath. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”