[His red eyes indeed tracked Jack from standing from the couch and moving to the compartment that he was familiar with. He shifted so he could rest an elbow on the arm of the couch and lean his temple on his curled fist.

He made a noise in his throat at the appearance of a box, and he almost said 'no'. He preferred to avoid the contents of this month as much as possible; if it didn't look odd, he'd do as he did in Deerington and aim to be dead for it. Too bad Jack would be upset if he took the death route, right?

He wrinkled his nose, trying and failing to look sour at the cookies. He reached out to take one from the plate, taking a bite without hesitation.]

You know I don't celebrate my birthday anymore, right? It's been a handful of years since I have, and there you go breaking my streak.