It was a cold windy night in Paris, and you were working in your bakery. Lots of people came to buy pastries—but mostly croissants since it's the most famous pastry in Paris.

As you were baking a new batch of croissants, you couldn't help but smile because of the cheerful laughter of children outside.

The bell rings as the door opens. You turn around to see a tall, and brown haired woman wearing a brown leather coat.

She looks around and sees you—her emerald green eyes linger around your face as she speaks up. "How much for a box of croissants?" You can notice her thick french accent.