Spectre was wearing an apron and oven mits over an immaculate party suit, and ferrying various baked goods over to a treat table already piled high. "Evidently so, birthday boy," Spectre responded, amused. "Just let me put these down, and I'll come pay attention to you."

Mary got there first though, and wrapped her arms around Thomas' shoulders. She kissed him, and when she pulled back, gave him an odd look. It wasn't without amusement, though. "Hmm," was her only response to the taste that, after five hundred years, she certainly recognised. "Happy birthday, darling."

Tasha just rolled her eyes, but with a smile. Spectre might not have clued in, but she certainly had. "Naughty," she admonished her father lightly. "You're lucky I'm a little bit corrupt."