In truth, Savannah had only been nibbling at it. Still, nibbling went a long ways, and she was surprised to find that she was three-quarters done with the cookie already. She blushed faintly. "Cookie's good. Really good. Thanks."
Unlike Slav, her parents had been very Mom and Pop Cleaver -- and there had been homemade cookies quite often. Nevermind that, for them, homemade meant Pillsbury brand -- it was the thought that counted.
She wished he wouldn't look at her like that though -- he was making her feel a little too indulgent in the cookie -- like a pig, in other words. Deliberately, she set the remaining quarter of the cookie down on the table and folded her hands on her lap.
"Oh, it so worked," Savannah told Slav with a laugh. "We had the boys at our beck and call all the time. Well, up until it rained..." But cooties were more effective -- they weren't just a rainy day thing. "But...those boys never shared their cookies with us unless we made 'em, so...I guess I can totally see why you were excused."