"Really, Ozpin, I'll never understand your fascination with baked goods."

Ozpin glanced up to see Glynda leaning against his study wall, watching him coolly from afar. He sighed, setting down his platter of cookies fresh out of the oven, and sank into his chair, plucking one from the tray and taking a bite. Sugar, he thought, satisfied, and took a sip of tea. Simple and sweet—a good snack to go with the perfect beverage.

"Honestly," continued Glynda, exasperation tinging her voice, and looked away as though the sight of Ozpin finishing his first treat was scandalous. "Today is Initiation Day! Are your priorities so skewed as to lead you to believe we aren't on a strict time schedule? How can you enjoy tea and—and cookies when some of our newest students might die this morning?"

Ozpin regarded Glynda with mild interest, trying to determine whence her annoyance stemmed. "Are you really so worried about our students? I'm sure they'd be touched if someone told them." He picked up another cookie and raised his eyebrow as he met her eyes, daring her to remark further. "The admittance process accepts only the best of the best budding fighters for this academy, which means that most, if not all, of our students have been in combat scenarios before. They know what they're doing."

Remembering the blonde boy's ineptitude—Mr. Arc, wasn't it?—Ozpin made a mental note to visit the hospital wing or perhaps the morgue if he was missing when the challenge ended, munching on another cookie. Chocolate chip, he thought, unable to suppress a small smile. Less good with tea. But still delicious.

"Not all of them!" exclaimed Glynda, stepping forward as her grip tightened somewhat on her wand. Ozpin always wondered why she had forged it in the shape of a crop, unless she had some tendencies he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know about. "Some of them are hopelessly incompetent; I don't know how they managed to get into our school—"

"Miss Goodwitch," interrupted Ozpin, finishing off his second cookie and picking up a third. "You will kindly refrain from referring to any of my students as 'hopelessly incompetent'." He took another sip of tea, setting down the mug and looking at Glynda as severely as he could while still enjoying his snack. "As I'm sure you know, I am the one who has the final say in which students will be admitted. Therefore, by implying that they are substandard, you insult me."

Glynda opened her mouth as though to retort, but closed it again abruptly and stalked towards Ozpin's desk instead, slapping her wand into her hand repeatedly in a way that could be considered menacing. "How many times have I asked you to call me Glynda?" she snapped, but Ozpin only smiled serenely. Oatmeal raisin, sighed Ozpin mentally. Not too sweet, not too plain—and it goes well with tea, too.

"Are you even listening to me?" demanded Glynda, pacing. "Honestly, whenever you're having your tea and—and cookies, you're always so… detached." She paused to look at Ozpin critically, during which he simply took in her habit of stumbling over the phrase 'and cookies', before resuming her restless walk. "You're hardly recognizable as a professional in this state!"

Ozpin finished his third cookie and debated selecting a fourth, but his stomach determined that more tea was quite enough for the moment as he poured a second cup. "Would you care for some tea?" he asked, proffering the teapot.

Shaking her head, Glynda looked almost horrified. "I thought we'd lost that! What else have you got in here? I think I see the book I lent you months ago that you never returned!" She leaned on Ozpin's desk, glaring at him.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow as he set the teapot down again. "You seem rather concerned about the contents of my study. But, dear Miss Goodwitch, this is my study, and not yours—and I am the headmaster, and not you. Cool this down, won't you?" he added, handing his mug off to Glynda as he rose. "I need to refill the teapot."

Glynda muttered something under her breath, glancing down at the tea and looking vaguely disgusted, but then heaved a sigh of resignation. "If you insist," she said quietly, and Ozpin picked up the teapot and walked out the door.

When Ozpin returned to his study quite some time later, having not only refilled the teapot but also checked in with the staff monitoring the initiation challenge, he paused in the doorway to observe the situation before him: Glynda sat in his chair, shoeless feet on his desk and sipping his tea, reading the book he had borrowed from her.

And there was a gingersnap in her mouth.

Ozpin leaned against the doorway, regarding her with mild amusement, as she remained absorbed in the book. Her clothes were neat and impeccable as always, save for a few ginger crumbs decorating her low-cut blouse. Though she wore no shoes, her black nylons were still on, as always. (Ozpin had never seen her without them.)

But Ozpin knew there was no way he could get away with studying Glynda for long, however much he might like to. Best to alert her to his presence sooner rather than later. He cleared his throat slightly to attract her attention, but she jumped so badly that half her cookie promptly fell from her mouth to her chest, and she practically dropped the book on his desk.

"Professor Ozpin!" exclaimed Glynda, blushing furiously, after swallowing the rest of her cookie and glancing down—determining that it would be indecent to fish out the other half of her cookie in front of him. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"Miss Goodwitch!" said Ozpin, walking forward lightly and plucking his half-full mug from Glynda's still-shocked hands. "I shouldn't be required to knock if I'm entering my own office." As he spoke, he looked pointedly out the window to give Glynda a chance to find the other half of her cookie.

"Thank you," said Glynda eventually, sounding a little more composed, and Ozpin took that to be the signal that it was safe for him to look at her again. Which he did, only to find her struggling to get back into her high heels with uncharacteristic awkwardness.

"I suppose I can always use your love of gingersnaps as blackmail, so all is forgiven," said Ozpin. "As long as you left some for me." Approaching, he offered his arm to Glynda in order to steady her, and she regarded him suspiciously before accepting his help. It took more than a minute for her to lace up her boots, during which Ozpin wondered whether he should enforce a dress code for the staff. Glynda tended to choose clothing that wasn't actually too acceptable for professionals.

(Not that it didn't suit her.)

Eventually, at long last, Glynda straightened up and brushed her hair out of her eyes. "Thank you," she said again, but could not meet Ozpin's eyes, and he felt a chill of sudden apprehension. Raising his eyebrows, he checked the plate of cookies suspiciously. Not one single gingersnap left!

"I may have to dismiss you," muttered Ozpin, glowering at Glynda, who backed up a step or so warily. He couldn't scowl for long at her reaction; it was refreshing to know he still had the ability to make someone as stern as Glynda flinch, even if he was joking. "Don't take it so seriously," he added, and her expression shifted into one of relief. "I could never find someone so well-adapted to your job as you. Even if you are a little messy."

"Excuse me?" asked Glynda. "I am not—"

"My dear Miss Goodwitch, I'm not in the least implying you're slovenly in manners," interrupted Ozpin, blinking innocently. "You simply have a crumb on your cheek, that's all."

"Oh," said Glynda, but even as she spoke, Ozpin's hand moved itself up to her cheek and brushed the crumb away before it occurred to him what he was doing. And she reacted just as instinctively, raising her wand and slapping him across the face.

Both backed away, each scandalized by what they had done to the other, and there was a quivering moment of silence… but then their eyes met and they burst into laughter, Glynda's eyes and smile both sparkling. That was something Ozpin had rarely seen but loved to witness, and it made him all the happier in the moment.

When their chuckling finally subsided, Ozpin sighed. "Now that we've effectively destroyed any semblance of professionalism we once had, I suppose we ought to see how our students are getting along…"

"Yes," agreed Glynda, leading the way out. "Though somehow, I think their problems will be a little more serious than stolen cookies."