[Charlie scratches his beard thoughtfully.] Okay, okay, I like your ambition, man. We can probably whip up a halfway decent--whoa hold up there.


[He wrestles his backpack away from Hange, clutching his plastic trumpet protectively to his chest. He holds up a hand.] Cool your jets, buddy. We gotta play it cool here if we plan on nabbin' one of those suckers, all right?

[He waits until Hange's head is sufficiently in the game before continuing.]