It was unbearable, but she had to bear it anyway.
With a slight tilt of his head, Cooper's brows pull together in balant confusion. "Ah, well, you don't have to do that." He manages stiffly, suddenly very consciously aware that he may have been a little too eager over one cookie when there was quite a sizable plethora of options. "I'm fine with anything, so you don't have to go out of your way…" Cooper quickly adds, his brain mentally patting himself on the back for avoiding what could have been a misunderstanding . As his genetics were far odder than that of a normal vampire or witch, he didn't have the appetites of either. Meaning he didn't need to eat as often as humans -he could even go a full week without a sustainable meal-, nor did he have issues stomaching anything that wasn't drenched in ungodly amounts of blood. He had always seen it as a good survival tactic, but in the present years he had almost dismissed the fact. Finding a semi-amount of joy in a steaming cup of tea or the tin-cans of cookies and biscuits that his grandmother so frequently sent him. To further emphasize his statement he reaches blindly back into the container, almost as equally chomping down into the crumbly cookie with blitheness.