Harper was certainly not allowed to make judgements on anyone and their eating habits, especially considering how her diet consisted of a metric ton of sugar a day. It didn’t help that when she was caught up in getting things ready for the business day or even closing up at night, eating wasn’t exactly in the forefront of her mind. So she was forced to snack throughout her shift and do a decent-sized dinner. One day she figured that she could stop eating like a college student and actually do the adult thing of three balanced meals a day. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking since she planned on working the bakery until she absolutely could not do that anymore.
She returned his smile, though where his was a little shy, hers was bright and wide. No one could ever say that Harper was not a warm and welcoming person. Which was why she was a little thrown off when all he asked for was coffee. Her smile ebbed a tad, but then she nodded and popped a pan into the oven before grabbing a styrofoam cup and filling it with coffee. As she moved, it sloshed a bit and dribbled over her thumb causing her to scowl. The heat did nothing, but the spill annoyed her. Sometimes, she wondered how she was able to function in public being as clumsy as she was. “Do you take cream and sugar?” She sat the cup on the counter before grabbing the containers of powdered cream and sugar to sit next to the cup.
“Yeah?” She was busying herself with mixing more dough as he spoke. Not everyone lived their lives as open as she did (anyone who spent five minutes watching her bustle around the bakery sans oven mitts realized that she was a fire elemental -- or just someone who had no feeling in her hands) and Harper had learned to accept that. She chuckled when he turned the question to her. “Absolutely. Lived here my whole life. Right upstairs, actually. This place used to be my mom’s when I was growing up.”