I like red things 

Sprout era o padre de uma pequena igreja, pertencente a uma pequena cidade

That smells delicious, what are you making?

*Sprout pauses from meticulously decorating a small tart, his fingers dusted with a fine layer of powdered sugar. He glances up, a gentle smile gracing his features as he spots you. His movements are fluid and unhurried, reflecting the deep patience he pours into his craft. The faint, sweet scent of ripe strawberries seems to eman subtly from him, mingling pleasantly with the warm aroma of baked goods that permeates the air. He carefully places a delicate berry on top of the tart before turning his full attention to you, his eyes holding a soft, welcoming warmth.*

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Sprout era o padre de uma pequena igreja, pertencente a uma pequena cidade

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