Larissa was arranging fresh lavender in a small blue jug when the bell above the café door chimed.
She glanced up.
The visitor filled the doorway.
Not in an alarming way. In a rather substantial way.
He was a dragon. A large dragon.
A dragon carrying a leather satchel, wearing half-moon spectacles, and holding a neatly folded umbrella despite the complete absence of rain.
For several moments they simply stared at one another.
The dragon adjusted his spectacles.
Larissa set down the lavender.
"Good morning."
"Good morning," the dragon replied.
His voice was surprisingly gentle.
"Am I in the right place?"
Larissa looked around the café.
The polished wooden tables.
The shelves lined with books.
The scent of cinnamon buns drifting from the kitchen.
The angel quietly reading near the window.
"That depends," she said. "Where are you trying to get to?"
"The Celestial Café."
Larissa smiled.
"Then you've arrived."
The dragon nodded.
"Excellent."
Neither spoke.
Finally Larissa asked the obvious question.
"Are you a dragon?"
"I am."
"Do you have a name?"
"Cedric."
"Of course you do."
Cedric inclined his head.
"That seems an appropriate response."
Larissa laughed.
"You've been here before, haven't you?"
"No."
"But you've heard stories."
"A great many."
"And now you've come to see if they're true?"
"More or less."
His gaze drifted slowly towards the pastry counter.
Larissa followed it.
"Ah."
"Indeed."
"The pastries?"
"The pastries."
"So you're here to inspect them?"
Cedric looked mildly offended.
"I am here to conduct a comprehensive evaluation."
"Of the sweet pastries?"
"Primarily."
Larissa leaned on the counter.
"And who appointed you Chief Pastry Inspector?"
"No one."
"Then why are you doing it?"
Cedric considered this.
"A dragon needs a purpose."
"And you've chosen pastries?"
"I tried treasure."
Larissa nodded thoughtfully.
"Too much dusting."
"Precisely."
A silence settled between them.
The comforting sort.
The sort that occasionally wandered through the café and felt welcome enough to stay.
Cedric studied a tray of honey cakes.
"Do visitors often arrive through strange doorways?"
"Frequently."
"Good."
"Why?"
"I would rather dislike being the oddest thing here."
Before Larissa could answer, an angel passed carrying a tray of fresh scones.
The angel paused.
Looked at Cedric.
Looked at the satchel.
Looked at the spectacles.
"Dragon?"
"Yes."
"Tea?"
"Gladly."
The angel nodded and disappeared.
Cedric watched him go.
"That was unexpectedly accepting."
Larissa grinned.
"Trust me. Around here, you're barely noteworthy."
For the first time, the dragon smiled.
A small smile.
A dangerous smile.
The sort only a dragon could produce while simultaneously appearing completely harmless.
The angel returned carrying a teapot, a cup, and an alarming selection of pastries.
Cedric stared.
"That's quite a few."
"You'll need samples."
"Naturally."
"Scientific method."
"Of course."
Larissa settled opposite him.
Cedric selected a cinnamon scroll and took an experimental bite.
His eyes widened behind the spectacles.
"Well?"
asked Larissa.
For a moment the dragon seemed unable to speak.
Finally, he set the pastry down.
Opened his satchel.
Removed a notebook.
And wrote: The rumours regarding the cinnamon scrolls are entirely justified.

Larissa laughed.

"Taking notes?"

"I intend to publish observations."

"Oh dear."

Cedric dipped his pen into an ink bottle.

"Constructive observations."

"That's what everyone says before becoming a critic."

The dragon ignored her.

He took another bite.

Made another note.

Then another.

And another.

Soon an entire page had been filled.

Larissa glanced down.

The latest entry read:

Marketing promises are temporary. Good pastries are eternal.

"That's actually quite good," she admitted.

"I know."

"Modest too."

"A dragon must preserve some dignity."

The bell above the door chimed again.

Another visitor entered.

The dragon looked around the café.

The books. The laughter. The angels.

The scent of coffee and vanilla.

The soft hum of stories being written.

For the first time all morning, he looked completely at home.

"Well?" Larissa asked.

"Well what?"

"Was the journey worthwhile?"

Cedric reached for a second cinnamon scroll.

"Further investigation will be required."

Larissa smiled.

The angels, she suspected, would soon find him a garden room.

And somehow she already knew what would appear on the sign outside.

Cedric's Department of Observations, Tea, and Mildly Critical Commentary

Hours: Variable.

Opinions: Immediate.

Pastry Reviews: Ruthlessly Honest.