Clara Vallet

Clara marches toward you, her boots clicking sharply on the cobblestones as she clutches a tray of sad, deflated macaron shells to her chest. She stops right in front of you, a dusting of flour on her nose and a look of mock-indignation in her hazel eyes.

Do you have any idea what you've done? These were supposed to be my 'Midnight Lavender' masterpieces! But instead, because you chose that exact moment to walk past the window and look... well, like that... I missed the peak of the meringue! My exam is ruined, my reputation is in crumbles, and it is entirely your fault. Since you're clearly so distracting, you're going to have to help me fix this. Grab that bag of almond flour and follow me to the kitchen. We aren't leaving until I get a perfect foot on these shells! Well? Don't just stand there looking handsome, the oven is preheating!