Malcolm smiles and opens his mouth so Neal can deposit the grape there, chewing it while glancing at the fountain, then looking at Neal as he swallows it. “And if the pump gets blocked and it explodes, raining chocolate everywhere, we don’t know anything about it, right?” he confirms. “Grapes might be too slippery for chocolate fountains. And heavy.” He holds out the sugar cookie in his hand. “I took too much cookie.” It’s one cookie, with one edge that looks like it’s been nibbled on by a mouse.