*does not so much as bat an eyelash at the cake (the skeleton's a nice touch) or the "newscast" (who knew Cass had those acting chops?), although his face is bright pink with embarrassment and a muscle in his jaw keeps jumping at the effort of holding back gales of laughter*
*finally turns to you, squinting as though he can't quite make out your features (it's probably the cataracts)* You there. Sorry, forgot your name. The memory's not what it used to be. *slings an arm around your shoulders, all dead weight fit to make you work hard at not dropping him* Sit an old man down over there, will you? And hey, lady? *makes a vague hand motion toward Nico* Find me something I can put my feet up on, yeah? (It's the arthritis, you see.)
*breaks into a wide grin* And somebody cut me a slice of that cake—a corner piece, and make sure you get the whole tombstone. And then everybody really is so, so fired.