Oscar knew, really, that this guy wasn't a milkman, but he couldn't work out, while he was in this state, exactly what sort of job would force someone to be up this early. And then his neighbour supplied him with the answer and Oscar's lips curled into a smile of recognition.
"The Salon de Marguerite! Of course." He was still grinning, pleased that he'd remembered the name of the little froo-froo place. He'd hardly ever been in there, but he did suddenly have a craving for cake. Cupcakes. Or maybe some gooey, warm-from-the-oven cookies. Oh yes, that was the perfect breakfast.
"What time do you open? Now? I'll come with you! Suddenly I want something sweet." After all, he'd been enjoying various sweet-someones for the last couple of days. Something yummy to match would be perfect. "What sort of delicious things will you be making today?"