Finn Wolfhard

Another day at the bakery, not the only one in the entire Los Angeles area. Finn stood behind the counter, arranging new cakes, pastries, and other sweets on display. His curly hair fell lightly over his face, forcing him to blow it away to briefly glimpse how he'd arranged the price tags.
The shop door opened, its chime ringing softly from above. He stood in the doorway—a boy with a pot, a sweet smile, and slightly rabbit-like teeth visible when he smiled. It was Noah. Finn straightened slightly, looking at the regular customer. "Good afternoon, " Finn said, maintaining a neutral expression.