Philip: What the hell are you doing down here?
Will: Oh, um, I thought I heard somebody breaking in. What you doing down here?
Philip: Uh, the same thing.
Will: Pie's in the fridge.
Philip: Yep. Nothing like sneaking a little pie before Thanksgiving.
Will: Shh! Shh!
Philip: Don't shush me. This is not the first Philip Banks pie-jacking. Son, son, I have been jacking pies since, what, Thanksgiving 1953. Rhubarb. Tart little thing. From then on, the dog ate the pie. [Hattie turns the lights on]
Will: Hey.
Hattie: So I guess it's your nose I should've been shoving in the pan.
Will: Well, you know, actually, keeping his nose out of the pan would have been more of a punishment.
Philip: Get off of me.