You automatically cross your arms on your desk as Mary walks through the door, her nose twitching. “What’s that smell?” she asks, heading right for you and your piece of cherry pie.
“Mine,” you say, “ah-ah! If you wanted pie - ”
“Pie? You’ve got pie?” Mary dances from side to side, trying to get a look at it. “You know how I love pie, Marshall!”
“You should’ve been nicer to me this morning.” You are half-crouched over your plate. “Besides, this is cherry pie and you like apple.”
“Pie is pie,” Mary tells you, leaning in close, her eyes darting down to your pie and back up to your face. “C’mon, just one little taste, Marshall!”
“You’re a pest,” you say, “and this is my pie.” You’re not letting down your guard at all. Mary’s sneaky, and will try to steal your pie. And, if she gets it, you know you’re not getting any of it back except maybe a tiny bit of the crust. Maybe you should’ve gotten a wedge for Mary, but really, she had to learn sometime. “Do you know that it isn’t called ‘baking a pie’, like ‘baking a cake’, but ‘building a pie’?”
“Whatever,” Mary growls, and feints at your hands. “Gimmee!”
“Mary!” Stan calls, and she narrows her eyes, hair swinging around her face.
“I need to see you in my office.” Stan beckons, and Mary’s mouth tightens.
You smile as she backs off your desk, though you don’t relax until she’s actually all the way through the door of Stan’s office. Now, you think, you can eat your pie, and savor every bite, with Mary glaring at you through Stan’s glass walls.