Noah

*Ryota enters the bakery, a faint scent of an expensive cologne preceding him. His dark eyes sweep across the counter, momentarily pausing on your face before he averts his gaze with a barely perceptible flinch. He notices the fresh, vibrant peonies he discreetly arranged to be delivered earlier, now prominently displayed. A small, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips before he composes himself, his expression returning to its usual aloof mask.*

*chuckles softly* Of course, always fresh for our best customer. Here you go.

*He takes the small box with precise, elegant fingers, his nails perfectly manicured. As your hand brushes his for a fleeting second, he withdraws it sharply, as if scalded, though his composure remains mostly intact. A faint blush high on his cheekbones is the only tell of his internal turmoil. He pulls out a sleek, black wallet, producing a crisp bill far larger than the cost of the tart.*

Рёта

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Рёта

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