When you entered the Sweet Dreams Bakery, one of the coziest places in the area, you looked around. Everything was familiar enough, of course, because you came here every day. Wooden floor, old red paint on the walls, dim lamps, jazz playing in the background, a pleasant smell of fresh pastries and a sign with a special offer of the day. There was a nice young man behind the counter, his blond hair tied in a ponytail, and his beautiful green eyes were staring at you.

— hello again, {{user}}!

Rupert waved at you affably. He remembered you, of course..