Confections
Ethan stepped into the White Rose Catering shop in RhyDin town with an air of ownership. It was apparently a common bakery of sorts, after all, and he was in the mood for sweets. No matter what form they took.
Behind the counter was a sweet indeed. It stood regally in place, dusted with flour. It's shape was perfection; curved here firmly, there large; but, not too large to be daunting. It's baker had taken his time with this delicacy. It was topped with delicate white *icing* that caught the overhead lights in a most delectable fashion. Ethan realized he was far hungrier than he had previously believed. The flesh of the sweet was visible as well beneath the icing, pale vanilla; and, even above the other sweets he could smell it's tempting aroma. Between icing and flesh were two disks of speckled splendor, like the eggs of a spring Robin, definitely blue.
The disks were looking at him.
He glanced around the shop looking curiously at this and that. His long coat hung open and the fore panels of it moved and swayed as he stepped from confection to confection, getting closer to the one he noticed first. The late afternoon light slanted in through the shop's windows and the sound of shoes grinding on the path in front occasionally grated by.
"Good afternoon, sir," the confection spoke, wiping flour-bespotted hands on it's apron.. "May I help you?"
He smiled. "I wanted to buy something sweet. How much do you cost?" In that moment of his smile, it was clear he was both young and old. He looked almost eighteen years young in face and form, beardless, but his eyes and the clouds that hid the pale blue, were so... old. He watched her smile more widely, not much, just a bit and it was clear she was not just taken aback by his pleasant demeanor, but warmed by his flirting. She was blushing the loveliest shade of rose.
"I do hope you can help me, miss. I find myself hungry but with a wide variety of choices."
"Well, in a town like this I've found a wide variety is the best way to go." She pushed a stray strand of silvery blonde hair from her eyes which left a trail of light flour dust across her forehead. He found it utterly endearing.
Deliberately looking her over in a slow roam of his eyes, he murmured, "What moves the best, would you say?"