When he had proclaimed his need to leave after unexpectedly kissing her (and her stabbing him, which she wasn't sure if he regarded as related incidents or even equal concerns) she had decided to give Mitch some time to make the next move. But he never had, and Mabel wasn't sure what that meant. She had spent a long time after he had left cleaning up the blood, and then artistically decorating the cookies in Christmas-appropriate icing colours that weren't too fitting of the bat and pumpkin shapes. Eating two herself was more than enough, and she wasn't going to allow anybody else to touch them because even though Mitch hadn't helped much beyond the gathering of ingredients and mixing the icing, they were still his. So it was a shame if they were going to go to waste completely if he hadn't eaten them, and it was a good enough reason to see him again instead of sending them by owl.
Carrying the plate out into the courtyard, Mabel was glad she at least had enough time to haphazardly throw on her heavy wool winter cloak along with mittens and fur earmuffs. Catching her breath with short gasps betrayed the fact that perhaps she might have rushed there to meet him, more eagerly than she expected. "They're still good," she informed him in place of a greeting as she stepped in front of him, a cookie with a bite out of it sitting on the top of the pile as evidence.