Ulterior motives or not (he sees you, Rook, and your promotional ways--), Riddle was excited to get a taste of this delectable little treat. His eyes focus closely upon the shaping of the pie, the delicate apples that form the rose. If he were Cater - or, if Cater was allowed in the room currently - he's sure that the magicam obsessed boy would be taking so many different pictures, with different angles and lighting.

Riddle was different- had different priorities. He carefully moves over to grab a knife from nearby, bringing it to the spot where it's been set. Usually, it's Trey who deals with cutting the treats, with getting them prepared for consumption until the final moment, where Riddle's hands would grasp onto a plate and a fork, sinking into the delicacy and consuming each piece with as much excitement as the last.

So, Riddle turns the knife, offers the handle to Rook.

"Do not expect to be treated with more ease because of this." He warns, keeping his tone even. A threat? Possibly. Maybe. A little.