Right away, Andy realized he did not really like steak and kidney pie. He mixed his peas and mashed potatoes together in a swirly mess, and began to polish off this vegetable melange, keeping it well clear of the pie detritus his essaying fork had left. "Things in Scranton," he said through a mouthful of potato-and-peas, "aaaaare ... basically the same as they were last week! Like, nothing too major. I mean, you would know better than I would," and he stared pointedly at her stomach, in a Lucy-is-enceinte sort of way, a we-won't-say-the-P-word way.