Jefferson's expression softens, just a little, when she starts to frown and look uncomfortable, because it isn't as if he doesn't know what it's like to experience gaps in his memory, like he's not living it right now. He grabs a little plate for the cookie (floral, like practically everything here), and picks out the largest one for her. Chocolate chip, still fresh from the bakery's morning delivery.

Her quick save has Jefferson snorting. "Yeah, that seems to be a popular pastime," he mutters, almost in a knee-jerk sort of way. It's followed by a little wince, because really, he doesn't need to vent at a customer.

He slides the cookie over to Kenzi. "Have a seat. I'll bring you a pot."