Greta hums, playfully dubious, even as she lets the vote of confidence warm her. Anne might be teasing her a little, but the joke isn't the idea of her getting by as much as the supposed question of it, and it's impossible not to find that flattering.
Her smile softens when Anne looks up at her, and says she's glad she could help. It's a sentiment they both share, and she gives Anne's hand a gentle squeeze. They almost could've pretended normalcy at the cottage, but she knows it never would've worked — that they both would have been climbing the walls if their only occupation was sitting at home, ignoring the mess outside until it dragged itself over their threshold and they couldn't, anymore. Maybe keeping the peace in a commandeered bakery is only a little more urgent, or a fraction more likely to result in some sort of trouble, but god, anything is better than just sitting on their hands.
Anne leans in to kiss her cheek, but pauses a hair's breadth away: close enough for Greta to feel the warmth of her, far enough to require Greta's active participation to close the remaining distance. There's something oddly bolstering about that, as if they should be equal partners even in displays of casual affection — or as if the smallest tokens still deserve to be chosen — and a faint blush colors her cheeks as she lists agreeably into the kiss.
She draws back after a moment, turning to look at Anne directly. Her gaze flickers down to Anne's lips, and she considers leaning in for a proper kiss, but stays herself. Barring the notable exception of their first kiss, she knows Anne isn't given to effusive displays of affection in public, and while the bakery isn't exactly crowded, it's busy enough to not feel particularly private, either. Still, she doesn't entirely like the idea of that just being it, even as the awareness that she can't linger out here forever sits in the back of her mind.
"I should probably head back soon," she says, endeavoring to make it sound like a neutral observation, though there's a sly smile in the corners of her eyes. "You could come with, if you wanted. Change of pace." She lifts Anne's hand and presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles, eyebrows quirked in polite inquiry. "Help with the kneading."
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Her smile softens when Anne looks up at her, and says she's glad she could help. It's a sentiment they both share, and she gives Anne's hand a gentle squeeze. They almost could've pretended normalcy at the cottage, but she knows it never would've worked — that they both would have been climbing the walls if their only occupation was sitting at home, ignoring the mess outside until it dragged itself over their threshold and they couldn't, anymore. Maybe keeping the peace in a commandeered bakery is only a little more urgent, or a fraction more likely to result in some sort of trouble, but god, anything is better than just sitting on their hands.
Anne leans in to kiss her cheek, but pauses a hair's breadth away: close enough for Greta to feel the warmth of her, far enough to require Greta's active participation to close the remaining distance. There's something oddly bolstering about that, as if they should be equal partners even in displays of casual affection — or as if the smallest tokens still deserve to be chosen — and a faint blush colors her cheeks as she lists agreeably into the kiss.
She draws back after a moment, turning to look at Anne directly. Her gaze flickers down to Anne's lips, and she considers leaning in for a proper kiss, but stays herself. Barring the notable exception of their first kiss, she knows Anne isn't given to effusive displays of affection in public, and while the bakery isn't exactly crowded, it's busy enough to not feel particularly private, either. Still, she doesn't entirely like the idea of that just being it, even as the awareness that she can't linger out here forever sits in the back of her mind.
"I should probably head back soon," she says, endeavoring to make it sound like a neutral observation, though there's a sly smile in the corners of her eyes. "You could come with, if you wanted. Change of pace." She lifts Anne's hand and presses a gentle kiss to her knuckles, eyebrows quirked in polite inquiry. "Help with the kneading."