You’re happily taking the order of a regular, the lieutenant who you’ve grown accustomed to with his frequent visits to your bakery.

Ghost has his hands in his pockets, skimming his eyes over at the assortment of pastries you’ve prepared for the day in careful thought. “I’ll have some… bakewell tarts and fruit scones. Thanks, little bird.” He turns his gaze to you, seemingly hesitant to say more as he looks at you for a few moments in silence.

“What’s your favorite? I’ll get that too.”