I know I'm supposed to be in my room. Brooding over the wrong things that I have done. Shame on Indy. Yeah yeah.

I never have been a rule follower, just to clarify.

Instead of carrying out Abner's orders (Which is a first, mind you. I'm not THAT disobedient.) I walk to the kitchen after storming out of the hallway, absolutely fuming. The nerve of her. I really don't understand Marion Ravenwood. Running a frustrated hand through my hair I slam open the door of the kitchen, but stop when a voice addresses me.

"Need something, Mr. Jones?" The cook (Everyone just calls her Cook. I have no clue what her real name is.) is standing at the stove, her beefy hands clothed in oven mitts as she pulls out a tray of chocolate chip cookies. My mouth waters, my anger slightly dimmed by an overpowering hunger.

"A cookie would be nice."

Cook smirks. "And conversation as well, I suppose?"

"You know me too well."

She smiles, and for a moment, I can see the same sort of kindness that she bestowed on Marion that day she was making pancakes. "Have a seat."

Walking to the table by the window, I sit and immediately ask, "What do you know about Miss Ravenwood?"

"Marion?" Cook raises a skeptical eyebrow at me and I find myself looking down. She sighs, and I can swear I hear laughter in her tone. "What's there to say? The girl's a right spitfire, I'll give her that."

I nearly scoff.

As if I couldn't figure that out for myself.

"Why, though?" I lean against the table. "She's so defensive. Violent. Crazy, even. And all of the sudden, I say one thing and she practically loses it."

Cook looks thoughtfully at her apron. Her graying hair sticks out at odd angles as she hands me a cookie silently and sits across from me at the table.

"The thing," She begins slowly, staring at her hands, "About Marion Ravenwood is that she's still so young. Seventeen."

I blink. How had I forgotten her age so quickly? Not that Marion doesn't seem young, but...it just never occurred to me.

"And girls her age in that situation..." Cook gestures at the door towards the study, "They have no one to really look up to. With Mr. Ravenwood always gone, Marion had to grow up on her own. Make her own defenses around herself."

I feel like I am back in school for just a minute, hearing a professor lecture me about finding some artifact in a labyrinth. I listen closely.

"The problem with that girl is that she thinks she's invincible." The cook sighs. "The thorny personality keeps her protected and seemingly unemotional. You with me on all this, Mr. Jones?"

Nodding slowly, I take a bite of the cookie in my hand. Perfect and heavenly as usual.

"It's not until she gets insulted, or her life gets intruded upon by an outside force, that she starts to realize her weaknesses and go a bit mad. She's usually nice. Most of the time." Cook fixes a beady eyed gaze on me that I cannot willingly hold. "It might have helped if you had been nicer to her at first."

I blanch, and feel a flare of annoyance. "She's the one who started spitting venom the minute I walked in here."

"That was Marion's rather unorthodox way of saying hello and welcome." Cook answers simply, smirking.

I don't answer. I bite viciously into my cookie.

"Look," Cook stands slowly, stretching like a cat, "I've got another batch of cookies to make, so I'll need you to leave so Mr. Ravenwood won't start thinking I'm letting you have a pre-dinner snack when you're supposed to be in your room."

I don't even ask how she knows that. Gossip and news seems to spread like rapid fire through this house.

Standing up and walking over to the door, I smile and thank her for the cookie. I'm about to exit the kitchen and go shut myself in my room when the Cook calls me back.

"One more thing!" I turn. "The trick to cooperating with Marion is to treat her like an equal. Don't think of her as just any ordinary girl. Because she's far from ordinary, Jones."

Far from ordinary......

As in mentally insane?

Then yes, I agree.

I walk out silently, without a thank you or anything. My room is twenty steps up the stairs. My head is throbbing so hard (Not for a reason that I'm aware of. It was probably the chocolate chip cookies.) that I have to will myself quite a lot to make it all the way to my bed.

I creep slowly up the stairs and crash on my bed, mind whirling. Rubbing my temples and removing my glasses, I pour over what Cook said about Marion. I have to treat her unlike I've treated any other girl. Because she's apparently out of the ordinary. My head throbs again.

Yep, definitely the chocolate chip cookies.

A/N: So, I was in math class when this conversation popped into my head. I scribbled this down instead of the notes on three dimensional graphing. Because, honestly, this sort of inspiration for 'thoughts' does not come often. Review, look for typos and SEE MY PROFILE. I have some stuff to tell you.....