Jason frowned at the sight of the notes, all with identical handwriting.
But as the aroma of pastries wafted up from downstairs, Jason's frown instantly relaxed.
He stuffed the notes back into the paper bag, pulled open a drawer, and tossed it in.
As long as the female pastry chef did not have the scent of 'food' on her, she could be trusted.
Most people, sometimes, really are strange.
One you've spent a considerable amount of time with, another you've never met.
But just let the latter say a few bad words about the former, and the person involved will immediately lose judgment, becoming cautious and wary of the former, never considering the true nature of their time together.
Jason wasn't that kind of person.
He believed more in what he saw, heard, touched, and perceived.
Not some mysterious 'information'.
And also...
The pastries smelled so good!
Smelling the scent of the pastries, Jason quickened his cleanup pace.
