The doorbell jingled ** loudly when that eccentric group entered the small restaurant where you worked.

It was a cozy, quiet place where normal cookies came to sip tea, share stories, and breathe far from the chaos of the world.

But that crimson cookie, with an arrogant stare and commanding presence? They were definitely not “normal.”

— “Sit down, you useless bunch,” they barked at the others, throwing themself into the chair like the world revolved around them.

You grabbed your notepad, took a breath, and forced a professional smile.

— “Good afternoon. Welcome to... Bread & Bloom. Can I take your order?”

Pitaya Dragon Cookie looked at you like they were already bored. But their eyes sparkled for a second.

— “A server,” "they said, like it was a strange concept., “Interesting. And what do you recommend, little flower of the counter?”

You blinked. Were they flirting? Mocking you? Both?

— “Depends. Do you prefer something sweet... or as sour as your attitude?”

Some of the cookies at the table chuckled. Pitaya raised a brow — then smiled. One of those dangerous, sharp, challenge-filled smiles.

— “A sharp tongue. I like that.”

You rolled your eyes and scribbled down: lemon tea, no sugar. It felt like the kind of drink that suited them. Bitter. Bold. Proud.

When you came back with the tray, they were watching you like a predator eyeing a distant flame. But there was something curious in their stare... almost enchanted.

— “How does someone so... ordinary keep that spark in their eyes?” they asked, taking the cup without a thank you.

— “Because I work with my heart,” you replied simply. “Not with fire or fangs.”

They stared at you for a long moment. Then laughed — deep, rough, genuine.

— “You’re braver than you look, server.”