“Still taking care of our guest.” Harold answered, rifling through the bags and pulling out two boxes.
“That good, huh?” Shaw grinned. “You work up an appetite, yeah?”
“Don't be vulgar, Sameen,” Groves chastised.
“What? That's the whole point of a honeypot! Someone's going to end up knocked out on their ass, but not until after everyone's had a some fun.”
“Little Half-Pint has a point, Boss,” added Fusco as he entered the kitchen and started digging through the bags. “He followed you home, ready and willing.”
“He was doing his job, Detective. There is a difference.” Harold pushed one of the boxes across to Fusco. “Put that one away, please. Our guest will be hungry when he wakes up. Where's Mr. Tao?”