More Broccoli?

Standing at an information booth, Kronk was decked out in all orange, with a very convincing yellow mustache and eyebrows. "Well hey there! Thanks for coming out to support the trees! Need help with anything?"

"So... uh, what are you supposed to be?" he asked after a moment. "Some kind of mythical creature?"

There was no mockery in his voice—only genuine curiosity. Arthur had never been allowed to watch television as a child, nor much of anything else as he grew older. Stories and films that most people considered classics had simply passed him by, The Lorax among them. It was a quiet shame, in a way. So many conversations seemed to revolve around shared memories and familiar characters, while he found himself smiling politely, unable to join in.

Standing at an information booth, Kronk was decked out in all orange, with a very convincing yellow mustache and eyebrows. "Well hey there! Thanks for coming out to support the trees! Need help with anything?"

Standing at an information booth, Kronk was decked out in all orange, with a very convincing yellow mustache and eyebrows. "Well hey there! Thanks for coming out to support the trees! Need help with anything?"

"you can't do that man, i thought i was losing my mind" he laughed "what's got you out here on lorax form? does wendy know you're part lorax?"

john shoved his hands into his jacket pocket and walked through the park, nodding to the passerby's that he knew. spotting kronk at one of the benches, he made his way over when kronk had called him. who knew that meeting your big sisters boyfriend was considered such a big deal. as much as the siblings could be competitive and at loggerheads, john was still highly protective of her, especially after peter.

"kronk"

Honestly, he wasn't sure if he was more or less nervous once John had walked over. The man definitely had a presence. Maybe it was just a protective brother thing, he thought to himself. Either way, he extended a hand, and smiled. "It's nice to finally get a chance to talk," he chuckled. "Wendy's said a lot about you, and Michael, of course."

Kristoff was nervous—but then again, when wasn’t he when it came to Anna of Arendelle? The mere thought of her had a way of tying his insides into knots, the kind that twisted and pulled in directions he didn’t even know a stomach could manage. It was ridiculous, really. He could haul trees across meadows without breaking a sweat, face down storms that would send most people running for cover—but asking one woman how she felt about him? That was somehow the greater challenge.

And not just any woman. Anna wasn’t just kind, or warm, or endlessly optimistic—she was all of those things at once, wrapped up in a presence that made the world feel a little brighter just by existing in it. Which, unfortunately for Kristoff, made the risk of ruining what they already had feel all the more terrifying. Their easy banter, their shared work, the quiet comfort of simply being around each other… he didn’t want to lose that.

But he also couldn’t keep pretending that was enough.

So here he was.

Standing just inside Evangeline, the restaurant softly aglow with warm light and the comforting hum of conversation, Kristoff felt entirely out of place. The air smelled sweet—vanilla, sugar, something rich and buttery—and it only made his nerves worse. This wasn’t his world. Give him the ice rink, and Sven any day.

Still, he pressed on, spotting the familiar, broad-shouldered figure behind the counter.

“Kronk.”

His voice came out a little rougher than intended, and he cleared his throat, stepping closer. He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he was trying to find solid ground in a room that refused to give it to him.

“Hey, uh… I’ll get right to business,” he started, words tumbling out faster than he could quite control. “I need your help.”

He paused, exhaling slowly as if that might steady him, but it didn’t do much.

“You know that dessert you made during Valentine’s?” he continued, glancing briefly away before forcing himself to meet Kronk’s eyes again. “The one everyone wouldn’t stop talking about? Yeah… that one.”

Another pause. Another shift of his stance.

“Can you make it again?” he asked, voice dipping just slightly, almost cautious now. “I’ll pay you, of course. Whatever it costs. It’s just—”

He stopped, suddenly aware of how warm his face felt.

“It’s for someone,” he finished, quieter this time, a small, sheepish smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “A special someone.”

Kristoff let out a soft breath, like he’d just admitted something far bigger than the words themselves. Maybe he had.

“Anna,” he added after a beat, as if there was any chance Kronk wouldn’t figure it out anyway.

His gaze dropped for a second before lifting again, a mix of hope and nerves flickering across his expression.

“I just… want it to be perfect.”

"On Valentine's day? Oh—! You must be talking about the Bananas Foster! Well sure, I could make it again," he answered, without even asking for the details. Kristoff willingly gave them anyway, which made him smile. "Ahhh, riiiigggghhhhtttt," he smirked, with a wink. "I think I'm picking up what you're putting down."

Kronk threw the towel he'd been holding over his shoulder and looked around, before his eyes settled back on the man before him. "When do you need it by?"

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ϟ ⚡︎ ϟ ˖ ݁ 𖥔..𖥔 ݁ ˖ ϟ ⚡︎ ϟ ˖ ݁ 𖥔..𖥔 ݁ ˖ ϟ ⚡︎ ϟ ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

Baking wasn’t usually a two person job. At least, it wasn’t with Hiro. But every rule had an exception and this was one of them. “Thanks for coming by to help! With you here, this should be easier.”

Absentmindedly tapping her fingertips with his thumb, Hiro looked up to the guy who’d been more than happy to volunteer to help him. It wasn’t exactly that Hiro couldn’t do this by himself, it was just that she knew better than to. An opera cake with all its layers alone? That just sounded like a surefire way to get him in the worst, most impatient mood ever.

bam was perched on a park bench reading the latest book from his never ending reading list to pass the time. time wasn't a concept when bam was nose deep in a book. hours passed and he hadn't moved his spot, it wasn't until he looked up that he has realised that the day was well into the evening.

He'd been there for about an hour or so, and checked off quite a few interesting specimen: black-capped chickadees, pileated woodpecker... a few others, but those were more memorable. Just as he was starting to pack up, he noticed someone reading on a different bench, a ways away. "What are you reading? Something popular? Must be good, to be out here this late."