This is getting way to sugary sweet for him, so Newt just rolls his eyes and turns in the direction of the pies. "Come on, dude, watch me indulge in what your ginger friend made. Just gotta say, that's definitely the kind of pal you want to hold onto, who just makes ten trillion pies for a Thanksgiving party he's not even hosting? I will tell you this right now so you don't set yourself up for disappointment in the future, I am not that kind of pal."

If Derek needs a favor returned and asks Newt to bring him a goddamn $12.99 shovel or some shit to dig a grave, sure, will do. Pies, he'd be less inclined to supply. Mostly because he's pretty sure he'd just eat himself into his own coma.