Of course, Scout, I'll put it right where you want it.

[Once he delivers that bite, his shit-eating grin dies down a bit. There's still some left, and Spy manages to scoop up some of that mysterious gravy. He holds up the spoon backwards, his free hand holding down the curved part of the spoon, ready to let fly.]

I could finish all over your face or in your mout'. Which would you prefer?