"That would suck," Savannah agreed in reference to the stale cookie. It would be a downright tragedy with such a yummy thing.
But the thought of eating it made her stomach turn a little, although she couldn't quite say whether it was in anticipation of the cookie or in fear of it.
"Slav?" she noted curiously. The cookie was in her hand again, somehow. She broke off a corner of it, grinning at him. "Is that your real name or did you just make it up to sound cool?"
There was not a hint of a teasing in her tone -- well, not of the malicious sort. It was good-natured, cheerful even, as though she were accustomed to such things. (Perhaps she was -- she was from California, after all.)