Work Text:
You really didn't expect much for the first day of business — after all, you'd been told nearly your entire life that there was no point in assuming customers would come immediately. Some of your well meaning but slightly overbearing friends had, in fact, actively scared you away from it; warned you that you'd be far more likely to lose money during the first year than to gain it.
Even so, you'd puffed up your chest and shrugged your shoulders — you always had been stubborn, perhaps more so than you needed to be. Money lost or not, you found it difficult not to feel a near overwhelming swell of pride whenever you gazed over your little bakery. You picked the decor yourself with the money you could spare — a collection of eclectic objects that warmed up the empty space considerably, and that was more than enough for you. If it failed in the end, it was never meant to be, and that would be that. You didn't establish Nowhere for nothing.
Nowhere, you thought with a bit of bemused exasperation. Everyone had asked why you named your bakery that — but you'd even too embarrassed by the childish reasoning. After all, how did you explain that you wanted to make Nowhere into somewhere for people to go, without sounding like some kind of pretentious philosopher?
You settled cozily into an armchair behind the counter, hidden from the view of whomever peered through the large windows, and waited for either the pate a choux in the oven or — less plausibly — the bell by the door to ring.
In the end, neither came.
"Ahem!"
Your eyes shot up from your phone, where you had been lazily scrolling through a series of pictures while seeking inspiration for your next baked good. Your eyes were naturally drawn to the counter, where a… man? You think? Stood, one arm set gracefully behind his back and a pleasant smile on his face. Now that was all well and good, if not a little old fashioned, but his skin was also entirely blue, a pale shade that contrasted rather sharply with the maroon of his outfit. Not to mention a hairdo that you could only guess at how much hair gel it must have taken to accomplish, and a blue and gold staff with some kind of gravity defying ball floating above it.
You blinked once, twice, and…
Oh. He must be a cosplayer.
You'd heard something about that from a few of your friends, and from what you understood, it was some kind of advanced and carefully executed costume, usually involving characters from some kind of show or fandom. Now you weren't certain what exactly it was that he was dressed as, but you had to give your props to his skull — the blue costume paint looked entirely flush with his skin, not a single streak or flaw to be found. Not to mention the staff; you would never even know how to begin to construct something that looked so convincingly magical. You pushed yourself up from your seat regardless, dusting your hands off on your apron with a pleasant smile. Costumed or not, this was your first real potential customer.
You opened your mouth to offer a greeting, but you were cut off by the new arrival's slight frown.
"Oh my," he said, tilting his head a bit to the side, "it seems I've come a bit too early after all."
You furrowed your brow, glancing hurriedly at the sign that hung on the door. It was backwards, but you were more than certain that the times were correct.
"No, not at all!" You eased hurriedly, "I'm sorry for the wait, I just wasn't expecting a customer so soon."
To be frank, you weren't really expecting customers at all yet — and you hadn't even heard this one. As far as you knew, there was no ring of the bell to signify his arrival. You'd have to get it checked sooner or later, but for today you'd have to bear with it.
"How can I help you?" You asked after a moment.
The man in maroon — despite the blue skin, the maroon outfit seemed most attention grabbing — stared for a moment, almost long enough to make you wonder if he was alright. But he broke the silent staring contest with a smile, and tipped forward a bit in half a bow. You had to give him points for staying true to character.
"I'd like two sampler platters of the cream puffs, as well as a slice of your finest strawberry shortcake" he said politely, "oh, and a latte, if it isn't any trouble."
"No trouble at all," you replied, "that is what we do here at Nowhere. Please take a seat anywhere you'd like, I have a batch of fresh cream puff shells coming right out, if you'd like to wait for them to cool?"
He nodded, and you left him to his business as you trotted cheerily to your ovens. As if preordained — but, in fact just a pleasant coincidence — the oven dinged right as you slipped on your oven mitts, and you were free to pull the tray from the oven. The smell of warm butter and baked dough assaulted you immediately, and you took a moment to inhale. Your first sale — you had to do this right.
You walked over to the counter and set the cream puffs carefully on the table, poking at one with a discerning eye and nodding satisfactorily when it pulled easily from the baking paper.
From there, it was as easy as muscle memory. You reached below the counter for the small hidden refrigerator and pulled out a couple bags of filling, each a light but different color; a slight offwhite — vanilla, brown — chocolate, pink — strawberry, and green — matcha. You filled the shells as soon as they were cool to the touch, reaching with your free hand for a segmented box and setting them inside one-by-one. When you looked, you saw the man in maroon watching with that same pleasant expression on his face as you went about your work. When the box was full you closed it, wrapping a ribbon skillfully around the middle and setting it aside within a larger container, then placed a single slice of strawberry shortcake beside it in a smaller box of its own. Making the latte went just as smoothly, and you were able to complete the whole affair in a matter of minutes.
You placed the boxes all inside of a paper bag, the latte set beside them as you approached the register. Your first customer walked up without being bidden, nodding with some amount of amusement — you were probably smiling too brightly from excitement. You cleared your throat and told him the price, and he nodded like that was exactly what he was expecting.
"Thank you," he said as he paid, yet another smile on his lips, "my… associate, will be quite happy to have these again."
Again?
"I hope you enjoy them," you chirped, only to pause suddenly as a realization dawned on you; "wait! Hold on just one moment."
You'd nearly forgotten what the sign said beneath the prices — honestly you were shocked this customer hadn't brought it up, but you were glad to have remembered. You reached down and grabbed another slice of strawberry shortcake, boxed it, and set it with the rest.
"We're doing a promotion for the first month of our opening," you explained, although he didn't look particularly confused — which made sense, not many people would question free food — as you pushed the completed bag toward him; "so please take this complimentary shortcake as a bonus! For each purchase, we're giving away one item."
His smile didn't fade throughout the entire exchange, but it seemed to grow a bit as he reached for the bag and hooked it around his wrist. The latte was grabbed second, almost an afterthought.
"Well thank you very much," he said, "I'll keep that in mind for when I return."
He seemed to find something funny about that, but that was none of your business. A repeat customer was a good customer, in your opinion. He turned his back to you, and you noted for the second time that you weren't certain how the ball on that staff of his remained in the air. Glass, perhaps? Wire?
"Thank you very much for coming!" You called, bowing your head a bit at his back. He chuckled, and said nothing more.
Ting!
You blinked, and he was gone, the soft ringing of the bell the only sign of his presence.
Huh, you thought as you glanced down at the counter, if it weren't for the money in your hand and in the tip jar, you weren't certain you would have known he was there at all.
Oh well. You had more important matters to attend to — like baking another batch of pate a choux.