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The flame flickers on the one tiny candle, illuminating the tips of his fingers as Edward raises the cupcake in his hand. Chocolate with vanilla icing, from a batch he'd been particularly proud of. He'd originally planned on red velvet, but they just made him think of the one he'd baked for Miss Kringle now, and he frowns as he thinks how she'd refused to accept it, the look of impatience on her face making him feel even more frustrated than the fact that she'd been unable to unravel the riddle he'd given her with the bullet protruding from the cake. He feels his cheeks flush red now thinking about it, and even though there's no one there to see him it still makes him uncomfortable and embarrassed.
He tries to push the feelings aside. Today was his day, after all. And the crude but cheerful face smiling back at him in sprinkles atop the icing make him smile in return, for a moment feeling the same excitement that he felt as a child knowing that it was his birthday, even if there was no one to celebrate it with him. The first year he'd worked at the GCPD he'd tried to make an event of it, bringing in a big cake and party hats and setting up his office for games and dancing. Most of the colleagues he'd mentioned it to him had said they'd attend - to humour him no doubt, he now reflects - but in the evening it had just been him sat there alone, waiting. He'd been so overjoyed when the janitor came to kick him out of the building that he'd insisted on putting a hat on him as he left.
Well what do you expect, Nygma? No one wanted to be your friend in school or college, why did you think it would be any different here?
He purses his lips together tightly at the thought, hating how deeply it stings him. He's intelligent and competent and fun, he tells himself, he just sees the world a little differently, that's all. It was their loss.
Then again, it didn't feel like too much of a loss, sat here alone blowing out a single candle on a cupcake. It felt pathetic. Edward takes a deep breath, just wanting to get this over for another year, but as he's about to extinguish the tiny flame there's a sharp rap on the door, and in walks Miss Kringle, and Edward feels the embarrassed blush on his cheeks deepen.
"I've got the files you--" she trails off, eyebrow quirked up as she takes in the scene before her. "...Mr Nygma?"
"Oh! Miss Kringle!" He paints a look of delight onto his face, setting the cake on the desk and jumping to his feet, reaching across to take the files from her. As she glances down at the flame on the now very short candle he bites on his lip, feeling agitated and defensive. "Oh, this is, uh-- what I mean is--"
She holds up a hand, stopping him mid-ramble. "Mr Nygma, you never said it was your birthday."
"I didn't? I-- I mean, no, I didn't," he admits. He knows when her birthday is, of course, but even he's aware enough of social norms to know that he shouldn't admit that he went sneaking around the work computer system to find out that information from her file. He smiles helplessly, shrugging. "It's not like it's an important milestone or anything, just another year."
"Either way, you should blow your candle out before it's just melted wax." She leans in over his desk, and for a split second she's tantalisingly close. Then she straightens up, the cupcake resting in her palm. "Make a wish."
Edward makes a slightly giddy noise, then closes his eyes and blows. The flame dies abruptly, and smoke curls into the air around them.
She puts the cake back on the desk, pushing it toward him. "I would have sung Happy Birthday, but I wouldn't want to subject you to my terrible singing." She glances at her watch and then back toward the door, all businesslike again. "I need those files back by Tuesday. You're not the only one interested in their contents."
"Miss Kringle!" She pauses halfway out the door, turning to look at him, her face polite and patient. Edward flings open the top drawer on his desk, pulling out a tupperware box containing a pile of neatly made cupcakes identical to the one with the candle. He strides over, shoving the box at her. "Please, I'd like for you to have these."
Nervousness flickers across her expression. "Promise they don't have bullets in them?"
"No ma'am! They're all shipshape. That is, they're just ordinary chocolate cakes."
Kristen smiles, reaching her hand into the box. "I'm watching my figure, but I'd love to take one."
As she closes the door behind him, Edward can't help but pump his fist in the air in elation.