“Planning training sessions and designing stuff, I guess? You mutter about the ballistas a lot.”

Astrid rummages in her satchel, eventually pulling out the stack of slightly-crumbly cookies wrapped in a handkerchief, and waits for him to be safely out from under the bed before she gently lobs them over. “Dough I fucked up,” she answers, vis a vis lumps, “but there’s a little bit of chocolate in there too. Got it for Satinalia but it should still be good.”

She’s proud of the baking; not her strongest suit, really, but she’s been working on it over the winter.