She shakes her head and tends to the cookies, leaving it be. Weirdo. He had, quite literally, laid on his face for a lot of his time in the infirmary...

She works with the little twister he's given her, chatting with him about this and that until suddenly... the conversation, while easy before, begins to slip even further, more and more into what seems like intentional touches and the occasional bump against him as she moves the cookies from place to place.

Maybe they're naturally just in tune, weird as it may be.

Maybe it has something to do with the holiday vine that neither of them have noticed sneaking across the ceiling over their workspace....