"No, you distracted me with cookies." Tetradore responded, a soft sigh so falling from his lips as he admitted momentary defeat to his companion. Later tonight, when Samantha was asleep or content to simply nestle herself against his chest, he would once again reclaim his spot at the top of the leaderboards. For now, however, he was willing to forgo that undeniable itch to so prove himself to his companion in that constant competition that so seemed to exist between the best friends. As it was, his attention turned towards the cookies she finally placed within his grasp, his hand reaching forward to grab one from the top, the baked good was indeed still warm, the chocolate bits melting ever so slightly on the cookie beneath it as if she hadn't fully waited for them to cool before stacking them in that container and making her way here. Still, Tetradore was hardly one to complain on such silly aesthetics as cookies, the taste vastly more important to him then the appearance alone and the man knew well his girlfriend was entirely capable in the kitchen. He chewed it thoughtfully, as if contemplating this very notion of the best ever and too her roommate having to be chased off from such goodies. He swallowed, a look of noteable doubt crossing his stern features, "I think the title of the best ever would be presumptuous." Tetradore uttered in a deadpan voice, taking another bite before, in thought, he added, "I suppose I can give you second place though." He added, a small hint of teasing within his lyrics.

Still, his emerald green eyes shifted towards the girl's form, all too aware of how utterly peculiar it was to find her in such a skirt as she wore now. It hardly prompted a reaction from the man, however. He'd seen Risque in tightly bound corsets with her breasts nearly threatening to spill over, in leather jeans that nearly had to be pulled onto her hourglass figure, and in turn had too worn nearly see through shirts so she might so flaunt those muscles of her favored pet. In fact, the whole notion of dress was entirely brushed off the moment he had observed it, acknowledging it as peculiar before his attention had shifted elsewhere entirely. At least, such had been his intention before the young woman's voice so naively reached out to him. "Hm?" He inquired, his gaze floating upon her again with a furrow of his brow. "Oh, yeah, you look fine, why?" It hadn't occurred to him that she might be so looking for a compliment from him. After all, Risque had never cared what he had thought and Isolt had flaunted far more revealing things in front of him. She was the first, perhaps, in a line of woman that had dressed with the intent to please him. The prospect alone was utterly foreign to the man and, indeed, instead he merely observed the question as some sudden fear for holes in her skirt or something equally as worth a woman's fretting.

Instead, the man turned his attention to why he was being so coaxed with cookies, that air of suspicion entirely present as he so stared at her. That look of noteable confusion crossed his features as she stated that it wasn't snowing, her reasons for so bringing those cookies entirely obvious in those moments. His lips pressed together in a small frown, followed immediately by a soft sigh as he placed the cookie in his hand down. "Samantha, if you wanted to go somewhere you could have just asked. There was no need for all of that." He nodded towards the container of cookies though really he hardly denied his love for such a desert. Even so, the fact she'd thought them necessary to be given his attention for even an hour perturbed him in some fashion. He brushed away her attempts to so nod to the evening at which he had appeared upon her fire escape with a visible flick of his wrist, entirely unbothered such a lapse in his usually placid demeanor. The truth depths of his depravity had been spared from her, at least, even if she knew vaguely of his young life. "Well - which do you want to do? The beach, driving or dinner?" He inquired, sticking the rest of the cookie into his mouth to so finish it off in the process.