Sofia was beginning to debate whether he was that shy or just not interested in her. Of course, it was possible that he was just that thick, she supposed. Was it possible that he had heard the rumours of her twin sexes and been scared away? She sighed, busty, yellow scaled chest heaving gently as a bit of smoke puffed from her lips. Putting that thought away for a moment, she inhaled deeply, pulling the scent of the bakery into her nose, of cooking bread and sweets, and then bent down to feed the main fire with a peal of dragon breath.

She had been here for hours already. Technically, she was helping her father, but lately he’d been getting up later, leaving things in her claws. She pulled out the day’s special–hot cross buns–from the oven with her bare red-scaled hands, humming contentedly to herself. The heat of the metal was nothing to her, and these were the last things to get ready before opening. Most of the buns sported a regular, straight cross on the top, but one was different. The cross was diagonal, and went through a skillfully shaped heart. “If he doesn’t notice this…” she thought.

She put them into the display, hiding the special one behind the sign at the back, and double checked that everything was ready. A newspaper went on the table near the front window, and was joined by a coffee and a bagel with lox. That done, the sign was flipped, the door unlocked, and the Red Dragon Bakery was ready for business.

Mr. Fox was waiting at the door as she opened it, handing her money and heading to his table. “Morning, Sofia,” he said. “Is your father up yet?”

“No, not yet. I think he’s enjoying sleeping in a little until I go off to college,” she noted with a smile. “Mrs. Finch, good morning!” She moved around the counter so the diminutive bird woman could look through what the fresh wares. Mrs. Finch’s sharp eyes scanned the shelf, noticing the missing hot cross bun from the batch, and the shadow hidden behind the sign. She smiled. “Has he noticed yet?” she asked.

“No, Mrs. Finch,” Sofia said, sighing. She towered over the old grandmother by a good two feet, but Mrs. Finch sized her up like as only a familiar elder could.

“Don’t worry, he will,” she took a strudel this morning, as well as a small, round loaf covered with seeds on the top, and went to join Mr. Fox. Sofia watches, wondering if that pairing would ever become something.

It was about fifteen minutes later when Dawson entered. She liked that he was up nearly as early as she. The rabbit boy was over a foot shorter, his white fur shining in the dawn light, his nose buried in today’s history chapter. “The special and a sandwich, please, Sofia?” he asked without looking up.

“You’ll love it today,” Sofia said. “Cross my heart.”