[ It should be an exceptional cookie, if Jim Kirk's charm has anything to say about it. He doesn't owe three different Enterprise chefs a favor for a mediocre cookie--but he's still pleased when she bites into it and immediately takes a second bite, bigger than the first.

He's not expecting the offer over the shoulder (it's intimate, personal, sweet), but he obliges, leaning forward to take his own bite; which is promptly followed by a noise of pure pleasure from somewhere in the back of his throat. ]

Okay [ He states, once he's swallowed his bite ] We're starting an exchange program for the Farragut's mess staff. That's one hell of a cookie.

[ It shouldn't be this easy. It should feel awkward, bouncing back and forth between topics like her being trapped on a Gorn planet as a child and thereby having the tools to save his brother's life and the qualities of a cookie that must be someone's family recipe--but it isn't. It flows. Like they've known each other far longer than they actually have ]

Here, turn just a little. Let me get this side. [ a motion to the other half of her hair that he hasn't even approached ] I can braid it after, but it might look like a child did it.