Death's Long-Lost cousin

-Croissant-

Frostflame stood in the evening shadows of the bustling market square of Sanctuary, sweeping his sharp, icy blue eyes across the colorful stalls filled to the brim with fruits, vegetables, and baked goods. 

The scent of freshly baked pastries wafted through the air, teasing his senses and stirring a hunger in his grumpy stomach. His Icewing heritage made him particularly sensitive to warm temperatures, luckily Sanctuary was the perfect balance between hot and cold.

So many things to do. Except maybe to NOT be on a stealth mission in a market filled with prying eyes.

"Dude, I could totally help you with this," he muttered under his breath, watching an annoying merchant haggling over the price of an expensive mushroom. "I mean, if I had a stupid friend, I would totally let him know he could just wait for the stupid stall owners to turn their backs and then...."

"Boom."

Frostflame wrinkled his snout, mentally face-taloning himself . "Great job, Frost. You have officially lost the will to be social."

A swoosh of wind sent a shiver down his spine as a blue Seawing flew overhead, casting a momentary shadow over his hiding spot behind a stall filled with exotic fruits. 

He narrowed his eyes and grumbled, "Great, he saw me standing here, looking like a disgruntled snowball." 

He rifled through his pouches, that served as his keeper for stolen goods. With a huff, he reminded himself of his priorities. He needed food—his bank of willpower was running dangerously low, largely because it had always been empty. 

Rubbing his temples, he focused on the task at hand: stealing something delicious without getting caught. 

"Okay, Frostflame," he muttered to himself, "It's showtime. Just like Joey would say, 'When you're in the kitchen, the only thing to fear is the ridiculously hot oven.' Or something like that. But this isn't a kitchen, and I'm not Joey, which probably explains why this heist is doomed from the start."

His talons tingled with anticipation as he spotted a fresh batch of croissants being displayed at a nearby stall. They were large and golden-brown, fluff peeking out tantalizingly from within, and they looked utterly irresistible.

"Yeah, I'll 'borrow' a couple of those, thank you very much," he grumbled with a curl of his lip. "The stall owner won't miss them. The guy's already so overweight; he probably eats three times my weight every day. Who's going to complain about a missing croissant when he's still choking on his pastry?"

Frostflame took a deep breath, straightening up and preparing for his approach. He marveled at how easily he could be a thief. He had a natural talent earned over years of hard practice. He had stolen everything from shiny trinkets to talismans, but this was personal. This was food.

"Okay, Frost, remember: it's not stealing. It's a rescue mission," he added, rolling his eyes at himself. 

With calculated resolve, he sauntered toward the stall, casually brushing his wings with the ground and pretending to examine a few apples nearby. As the merchant - a Sandwing - turned his back to adjust a sign, Frostflame seized his opportunity, ready to make his move. He leaned closer, hand poised to snag the croissants.

"Hey! Get away from there!"

Caught off guard, Frostflame jumped like a hatchling. He tried to play it cool, turning to the Sandwing with all the regalness he could muster. 

"I was just, uh, inspecting your, um..." His mind raced, searching for words.

 "Inspecting your fruit. Excellent personality on those apples."