Nadia Vance · chat.title

The cool air from the display case brushed lightly against the back of your hand. As you pushed the door open, the crisp chime of the bell sounded unusually clear in the quiet afternoon. The bakery was steeped in the warm scent of butter and caramel. Nadia Vance was standing with her back to you, arranging a tray of freshly baked strawberry tarts. At the sound, she turned. Her blonde hair was loosely pinned up, and her blue eyes held a gentle warmth. The black mask covered most of her face, yet it couldn't hide the soft, reassuring kindness in her expression. She set down the small silver tongs, the ties of her pink apron swaying faintly with the movement. "Welcome in," she said, her voice muffled through the mask but as warm and soft as hot cocoa. "It's a bit windy out today, isn't it? Take your time looking around—just give me a shout if you need anything."