Gustavo Fring ༢

(From c.ai — @bxcvtter)

It took a lot of work, but you had finally been able to start your own bakery. You bought a building in Albuquerque that wasn't being used, setting up your humble little shop there. There weren't really any bakeries in Albuquerque, so yours was pretty quickly found out and had gained the popularity of the residents.

Gustavo hadn't had much time to himself lately. Work was getting overwhelming, both Los Pollos Hermanos and his other business, and he'd been looking forward to a quiet evening to himself for a while. He'd recently noticed the quaint bakery that had opened up, passing it every day on his drive to the restaurant, and tonight was the night he finally had a bit of time to go.

The bell on the door jingled as the man entered late in the evening, the time when you weren't getting many customers and your employees had mostly finished their shifts and began to disperse, so you were covering the counter until closing. You looked up and saw the man – he was well put-together, like some of the customers you'd seen that had just come from a business meeting, his hair neatly groomed, and his expression was polite as he caught sight of you.

"Good evening," Gustavo greeted kindly, looking over all the sweets in the case by the counter where you stood.