Welcome to Gaia! ::

Nobody liked when The Boss™ was in a bad mood first thing in the morning. It wasn't that Harold became entirely intolerable to deal with, though. Harold was usually exceedingly polite and quite pleasant to work with on any given day. It was for that reason when little things that were important to him got left unchecked, his gentle tone went from pleasant to guilt-inducingly pleasant. It wasn't your fault that the near basics of his life - that he had earned, thank you very much - had gone neglected. He'd go get it.

This was fine. Everything was fine.

It also meant that the shop where he usually had his morning pick-me-up brought in from was used to only seeing Mr. Bruhnmen when he was in a mood that could have been described as sweetness on a cavity. Every intention was good, his words were kinds, most people probably wouldn't be bothered.....but it could still cause a jerk reflex of 'oh god why' on contact.

Which was probably why when the man stepped through the door, the employee at the counter took one look at him and immediately ducked away into the back.

He was back.

To no surprise, it was a familiar young woman with dark hair that ended up emerging from the back. Of course someone was shirking their responsibilities to someone else, that was simply the theme of the day. He held in a certain amount of seething to keep it from settling on his face, but it rested instead in the slope of his shoulders, making him seem slightly stiffer postured than he usually would have liked.

"Miss Baker," he greeted, his tone overly ginger. "Small things, small things as always," he offered a smile, as genuine as it was, but it was the same answer he'd always give to what he needed; small things. He was never asking for too much, after all. "It seems my assistant decided to take on an assistant and left the usual morning stop to them," he nodded slowly, "not a horrible decision, if they had not forgotten to visit your lovely shop altogether." He was amused by the situation - or at least sounded it.

"So instead of wasting their commute into work to send them back, I came to see how things have been while I get my usual - unless you've gotten any new Breakfast Green Teas in that you feel I would enjoy?" he made earnest eye contact, "and of course it looks as if you were working on something delightful," he lifted a gloved hand to gently touch his own face where Jane's had flour on it. "I would very much be curious to know what you were up to before I interrupted your own busy, busy morning."

The tone she spoke with was not missed and Harold had to keep from raising his brows judgingly at her. With his expression psyhicly stapled into nothing but one of kind-but-inconvenienced, he nodded thoughtfully along at her suggestion.

"I trust you have good taste, I would not say no to seeing how similar our tastes may be," he mused, voice practically a hum. He'd at least entertain the thought for a few minutes, maybe take some home, never drink it, wait until he could make someone else get his usual. Rinse, lather, get a new person to tend to such things.

"A few minutes on top of the time I am already spending here will not bother me in the slightest," but I am inconvenienced as hell to just be here, "I would love to try what you have been working on." There was something about her comment - perhaps the fact that Harold Bruhnmen wasn't a fool, that caused his expression to drop slightly - just the smallest bit of forced smile dropped around the edges.

"No, I usually do not have this luxury. Took me seven years of hard work to earn the rare times I do have it." because he was not a spoiled boy who had been handed what he had. He had made it - it was completely his, and Jane's sly comment was not going to go unmissed.

She really handled him with a sweetness that would have made a cavity scream on contact, no matter how shallow it was. Harold mindfully made sure to note every little that wanted to stand on edge at her tone. Clearly, he needed to address those specific nerves to keep them from being riled from a lovely young girl who worked in a Bakery-and-Tea-Shop. She was just a girl, like any other girl.

No need to let her get under his skin.

"So thoughtful, Miss Baker," there was no false sweetness in his tone, only simple honesty as he reeled in his knee jerk reactions. It there was a category in the Olympics for Mental Olympics, he'd place at least Silver. He lingered at the counter, watching as she worked. While he wasn't perhaps the pickiest person in the world - he did allow his morning fix some wiggle room for arrival - he could at least tell Jane had noticed his more...particular idiosyncrasies. A shame. He tried to not be too meticulous about such things.

"Mmm, if it is that easy to see, I clearly need to work harder." He didn't want to make his hard work look too hard, after all.

And three minutes exactly - a perfect timing for leaves to be removed from tea, at least something as delicate as a white. Perfect. Had he been counting? Harold had definitely been counting. He took his first sip as Jane left, allowing himself to mull over the flavor a bit more genuinely when she wasn't there to judge his response. It was....


It was sour. He wasn't necessarily sure he liked sour and he had to keep from making a face before he took another drink. Maybe it would grow on him. So far, not so much. But he'd have the look wiped right off his face as Jane emerged with a bagged pastry for him. He focused on it, then looked up to her face. No inclination of what it was, only that he was getting one because he'd asked.

That was fine he guessed.

"No, that should be plenty. I can always come back should I change my mind," which he never did. Before Jane had even finished ringing him up, he'd opened his wallet and pulled out a bill to pay with. Never paid with a card - always with a bill, and always left his change as a tip. Like clockwork.

The change barely hit his hand before it was, like clockwork, dropped into the tip jar. Just as he always did.

Jane's words prompted a smile - uniform and practiced with a sincere tinge, but never the less was oddly false looking - and a nod from Harold. "I should hope that the worst part of your day way having to see me so early in the morning," he said in turn, as though he knew that yes, he was an absolute nightmare to deal with for certain people.

Why else would Jane be the one consistently sent out to deal with Kind-and-Polite Mr. Bruhnmen every single time?

"I will most certainly let you know how everything was once I have had a chance to enjoy it. Thank you." Every place he left after doing business was left with that same 'Thank you' - even if some times he didn't really mean it, but final impressions on any day meant something. Yet even after he was gone, perhaps it wasn't the last impression he would leave.


-----

Perhaps over the top, it would be several hours later when an awkward looking young man stepped in, a rather extensive arrangement of flowers balanced in his arms.

"Excuse me? I have a delivery for Miss Jane Baker? I just...need these signed for..."

Once everything was signed off, the flower arrangement would be left on the counter with a card attached to it. It was meticulously hand-written.



Excessive.