Peter watched the parabolic curve that the bag of candies enscribed in the air, vaguely estimating the angle and force necessary to sent it sprawling through the air; landing somewhere behind the desk, it broke, sending the undoubtedly half-melted chocolate pieces skittering across the floor. Wonderful. Now he had to pick those up before they melted fully and he'd have to clean the floor. That was precisely what 4chan seemed to be counting on.
Well, that was that. He was 'kicking him out' right about...now. Now, because he was less than comfortable with psychopomps roughly 1% of his age attempting to invade his personal space and succeeding.
Peter grit his teeth, stepped back so the man's breath wouldn't infiltrate the air that he was breathing - necessarily or no; he'd ponder that in-depth later - and checked his watch before realizing with a jolt off irritation that he'd taken his watch off.
"Alas; it looks like the minutes I was being so generous with have run out. The door is exactly where you last saw it, right down the hall."