Nightwing chose to ignore Kaldur's warnings.

Zemirah was a very passionate, but very sweet person. Was she angry? Clearly. However, he was certain she would never go so far as to poison him. Over the next week, she seemed to calm down a lot more. She'd stopped glaring at him, but she still ignored him like he was an invisible mute. Still, it was far better than what the double agent had… Implied. Then came the day he walked into the rec room to find Chokichi throwing up into the trash; with Caroline rubbing circles on his back, and Zemirah scrambling to get a glass of water.

"What in the nine did you ingest?" The reaper girl asked.

"All I ate were the cookies."

"Which cookies?" asked Zemirah who then suddenly giggled. "I just realized we keep a lot of sugar here."

"The cookies on the counter."

The other three in the room looked over to the counter to find several empty platters devoid of cookies, but very prettily decorated in crumbs. The reaper spun and glared at the angel.

"Just how many did you eat?"

"…All of them?" He tried.

"No wonder you're sick!" Zemirah snapped. "M'gann and I were baking all morning; between the two of us we must've made six... dozen cookies. At least."

Caroline went from mildly annoyed to straight up livid in under a second.

"Alright then Mr. Sugar-is-my-Drug, you and I are taking a trip to get your stomach pumped. AND I'm restricting your sugar intake for the next three weeks. The whole League is going to back me up on this."

"But they were so good," Chokichi protested weakly.

"Of course they were good," Zemirah explained. "They were my special chocolate chip. But that's not the point."

"I don't give a flying **** how good they were! You keep eating that much sugar you're going to put yourself into a sugar coma!"

With that the reaper dragged the angel to the Mad-Bay, Zemirah trailing behind them. Nightwing didn't think much of it. It wasn't until three days later that he began to worry. He'd just walked into the rec room again to find Bankori sprawled out on the couch. Zemirah was attending to him; putting a cold compress to his head, with Caroline hovering nearby.

"What happened?" Nightwing asked.

"Don't know," Caroline answered. "We came in and he was just lying here."

"I feel terrible…" Bankori moaned.

"I know Angel One, I know," Zemirah soothed, gently petting his head. "Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere."

"Be more specific," Caroline groused.

"…My stomach mostly."

"Well, what did you eat?" the reaper snapped.

"The chicken stew."

"The one on the stove?" Zemirah asked looking into the kitchen.

"Yeah there was a bowl on the counter so I helped myself."

"Anything else?"

"Uh… My brother shoved some of his stupid sweets down my throat. Drank some milk to wash out the taste."

At this point, Zemirah was rifling through the kitchen. She tasted the stew herself before rooting through the fridge. She took out the milk jug and twisted off the cap before giving it a sniff. She grimaced at the smell and slapped the cap back on.

"Che! No wonder you're so sick!" she yelled, checking the expiration date. "This stuff must've expired two weeks ago!"

"It's Connor's turn to buy groceries and he always forgets the milk," Caroline reasoned.

Zemirah dumped the milk into the trash and headed for the Med Bay. She turned back and called the others.

"Carolie, grab Blondie."

The reaper helped Bankori to his feet and half-dragged after her.

Nightwing said nothing but moved to make some coffee. As he scuttled through the kitchen, he couldn't help but look down in the trash bin. He caught a glimpse of the expiry date and his blood ran cold.

It didn't expire until next week.