"Thank you. We'll be right over." Chester nodded to Mr. Thomson as he walked away. He gave the menu a once-over before stepping up to the counter. "I'd like the New York Dog, on top of some fries. Just a water to drink." He stepped to the side, allowing the next person to order.
Taking a sip from his plastic cup, he made sure Thomson wasn't watching before he took a step back, sidling up to Harold and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Harold," he muttered. "Try to let Henry do the negotiating, okay? He's already in Thomson's good graces..." He gave their leader a suspicious look. "... somehow, so we've pretty much got the job already. That means we don't need to press the guy any more. No more Sherlock stuff, no insults for just mentioning the competition. Thomson already needs us, so just keep him from cracking, alright?"