Mystic Flour Cookie wasn’t one to show compassion— that much was obvious.

Though, she found herself contrasting her very apathetic attitude when she finds herself facing a vulnerable-looking baby dough wrapped in a waffle blanket.

“A baby?” She stated, her pale eyes narrowing at the sight. What a weak, feeble-looking Cookie. She’s better off pulverising you into flour.

And yet, she found herself unable to do so, nor did she feel compelled to.

So instead, the pallid Cookie stood there, observing you silently. Not a single life form could guess what she was thinking. Curiosity, maybe. Or contempt.