Richard closes his eyes and simply stands as he is more thoroughly draped with whipped cream. When it starts dripping on the floor, he cracks one eye open as if to say 'really?'

"You're not getting a single slice of this pie. I want you to see what you've done to it."

It doesn't even smell like a lie. The mischievousness is petering out and being replaced by patience. He can wait for her to come over here all day. (The glob on the end of his nose is making it horribly difficult to not smile. Or lick off.)