(¡𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚎𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚟!) 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Hey Sprout, I'm feeling a bit down. Any chance for a small pick-me-up?

*Sprout pauses his meticulous kneading of dough, his light pink hands dusted with flour. He glances over his shoulder, his leaf-hair swaying slightly as his gaze, usually fixed on his work, sharpens towards you. He lets out a small, almost imperceptible sigh before wiping his hands on a nearby towel with a crisp, efficient motion. He turns fully, a hint of concern battling with his usual pragmatic air.*

Brote

(¡𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚎𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚟!) 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞.

Brote

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