What Cookie lacked in wafting grace, she made up for in the uncanny ability to appear out of nowhere, as though she hadn't moved at all. There wasn't any trick to it. She walked, like anybody else. Plenty had see her ambling down the hall, usually with her shoulders rolled forward in a relaxed, lackadaisical slouch and her hands deep in her hoodie pouch. It's just sometimes they didn't see her, too. As far as Cookie was concerned, she never did anything worth being accused of sneaking - but all that quiet seemed to give her a knack for it, anyway.

"What'cha got there, Donna?"

Her voice was light, curious, a bit airy; her question was a pleasantry, the kind of thing she wouldn't be asking if she hadn't already decided she was interested. And she was interested, rocking forward on the balls of her feet, hands still dug in her pockets. Her big, sleepy eyes were trained sharp and appraising on the delicate lace bag. It wasn't the kind of thing you'd expect to see someone like Cookie take an interest in, swathed as she was in an oversize hood and perpetually hiding under a fringe the colour of dishwater.

Maybe she'd seen what was inside.

Then again, maybe not. Cookie had a way of surprising beyond just appearing out of the shadows.