scene 2 :a whiff of trouble

Poppy hurried past the rows of gleaming display cases, the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries a symphony to her senses. She weaved between bustling servers and impatient customers, her gaze fixed on the swinging kitchen doors at the back. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door, ready to face her culinary idol.

The kitchen was a whirlwind of activity, a well-oiled machine churning out delectable treats. Flour dusted the air, mixing with the sweet scent of melting chocolate. Clad in crisp white chef's coats, bakers moved with practiced efficiency, their movements a silent ballet. Poppy scanned the room, searching for Ethan amidst the organized chaos.

A particularly loud clatter drew her attention to a corner counter. A young man with dark hair and intense brown eyes wrestled with a massive stand mixer, his brow furrowed in concentration. Ingredients were scattered across the counter – a half-empty bag of flour, a pool of spilled milk, and a dented metal container that looked suspiciously like whipped cream.

As Poppy approached, she noticed a skateboard wedged precariously under one of the mixer's legs. Suddenly, the scene clicked into place – the clatter she'd heard outside, the panicked yells that followed. This, she realized with a sinking feeling, must be the aftermath of the runaway skateboard incident.

The young man finally managed to wrestle the mixer into submission, letting out a sigh of relief. He straightened up, wiping a smudge of flour off his cheek, and for the first time, noticed Poppy. His eyes widened in surprise.

"Uh, hi," Poppy stammered, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. "I'm Poppy. Deliveries for... you?" She gestured awkwardly at the lattes and pastry in her arms.