Yeah. That's what I'm saying. I'll paint some fucking numbers on the ceiling, that oughta keep you happy.

[Because numbers make Meyer happy, obviously. Just looking at them should be fine.

Charlie knows where their secret stash has been since they got here - the little both Meyer and himself had on them when they arrived. He walks to the shelf and finds the jewelry box with the removable bottom. Bingo.]

Come on, you ain't had none for ages. It's gotta be fucking killing you.