"I already told you, I don't--" Robins' muffled rasp protests as she shuffles to the door. "Want your...cookies? And...You're not the Girl Scouts." She decides feeling rather stupid.

"What are you doing here? Are you looking for Steve? He's not here. Is this about the 'thing'? We don't have to talk about it. That's totally fine with me! It's all good here. I um-" She waves a hand in an explainable gesture that doesn't answer anything except a call of personal confusion.