Part of me feels like I should insist that I just hand over the cookies and be on my way, not wanting to intrude. But, honestly, staying does sound nice and not just because I'm learning more and more how little time we really seem to have with people here. There's no telling when Sharpie will be taken away, or when I will; it's best to spend as much time with him as I can while I still have the opportunity.

"I just had some extras and it's been awhile since we talked so I thought I'd stop by," I tell him and it's only a little bit of a lie. The cookies are just a good excuse. I watch as he clears off a spot on the counter for the cookies, eyebrows shooting upward at a familiar application. "Oh, is that for Barton?"