Inktober 2026 - 30 - Cookie

“Here. Have a cookie.”

She put down a tiny plate in front of him, on which was laid out a single big beautiful cookie. It was well-rounded, it smelled of chocolate and cinnamon, and other that the enormous chocolate chips which were a deep brown, it had a really nice mahogany colour. It truly looked and smelled appetising. He however leaned back in his chair and eyed it suspiciously.

“Not a chance I’m ever accepting any food from you, Clara.”

He looked back up at the woman who had brought the biscuit with just as much suspicion as he had looked at her baked good.

“Why is that?”

She had the gull to seem genuinely offended by his caution.

“You mean other than the fact that you have tried to kill me four times in as many weeks?” he reminded her, assuming she would easily be able to infer the answer to her own question from that memory.

She grunted, shook her head, and crossed her arms.

“Come on. A poisoned cookie is not really my style,” she argued.

“I’ll admit that trying to run me over with a car, shoot me, and stab me was a lot more direct. And the anvil above the door trap was also very brutal, if less personal. But still, I wouldn’t put anything past you.”

“Why can’t you just accept this as a peace offering?”

“What reason would I possibly have to believe that this is what is happening?”

“I’m presenting you with a sugary treat. It’s usually perceived as a nice gesture.”

“From a friend, sure. From a stranger, rarely. From an honest-to-God mortal enemy? Never.”

“We’re not enemies; we work together.”

“Both things can be true. Now, if you don’t mind, I have reports to finish.”

Sighing, she picked up the cookie, broke a piece off of it, and theatrically brought it to her mouth. She chewed and swallowed exaggeratedly before opening her arms.

“See? I wouldn’t do that if it were poisoned, would I?”

“You could have used a slow acting poison to which you possess the antidote somewhere. Or a toxin you are already immune to. You might even have manufactured a bioweapon tailored to my physiology.”

“You’re being paranoid!”

“There is actually nothing irrational about my reasoning whatsoever.”

In fact, he was pretty sure that a few of the people with them in the open space would have tried to stop him if he had considered giving their colleague the benefit of the doubt on this. They knew better than to intervene before it was strictly necessary, but he had not missed the furtive glances they had given Clara when she had walked up to him; they were closely monitoring the situation. Heated rivalries were common and authorised, in their field, but nobody ever wanted to be on clean up duty.

“You’re giving me too much credit, then,” she kept on with her accusations.

“Then you should be flattered! Now would you please leave me be? And take your cookie with you.”