Anne tilts her head slightly as Greta adjusts her hat, patient and indulgent. She hums in solemn agreement despite her continuing grin, which only softens as Greta finally leans in. She stops, though, just shy of the kiss, just as Anne had done out front. Handing the choice back to her.

Anne makes herself wait for a moment, her eyes roaming over Greta's features, studying her up close. The little smudges of flour dust here and there, the traces of sweat from a day spent at work. She smells of bread and honey, and she's beautiful.

She hums again, softer this time as she brings them together, pulling Greta in with subtle, gentle pressure around her waist and kissing her as delicately as she knows how. She wants to savor it, to go slow, to let each moment linger as long as they like. To crowd everything out until the world is as small as the space between them.