Olive wasn't even feeling especially social or creative. But ever since her class that morning, she'd wanted cookies. And no, she was so not like, a gourmet cook at all, but she could buy refrigerated cookie dough with the best of them.
Shhh. She threw the packaging away and tossed the raw dough into a bowl so no one would know. She was sneaky.
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Making Sparkle cookies was not actually a requirement.
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He would not. Though it didn't sound that bad, all things considered.
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Sparkle. Sparkle no.
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"It might be good," he decided. "Sweet and salty and sour, all at once. Dude, now I kind of want this."
Robot taste buds were a little ... special.
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No, there was really no question that he had.
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This was either the worst idea or the best idea he'd had lately.
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"I'm pretty sure it isn't cheating if we go with dough that's already there," Sparkle decided. "I can't bake worth shit."
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He held up the ingredients. "Success? Do you want to find the peanut butter?"
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Terrible, terrible cookies. Somewhere Karla was proud.
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He frowned at the bowl. "How many pickles do you think these need?"
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Bah, popularity.
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He chopped and dropped in the recommended four, stirred, looked, and added two more. Perfect.
"This looks like a very pickle-y cookie." He was starting to sound slightly dubious about the whole endeavor.
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This was going to be made of regret and sadness. Or was going to at least require a few beers.
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[OOC: Night!]
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