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00:21:19
H. Jon Benjamin, Judy Greer, Amber Nash
81
There is plenty of fishiness going on at ISIS without your balls.
...the local Zambezi tribesmen called human flesh...
I think he's already being regaled. - PAM: Meatballs!
Torvald is an incorrigible poon hound. - TORVALD: Ha, ha.
There, there. Let that calcium citrate seep into your bones.
I kept it on the nightstand to wake Nanny whenever Sterling wet the bed.
I am a great admirer. - You know he's not the shot-putter, right?
She probably uses the metric system. - Yeah, what do they use? Kilowatts?
Ugh. The Organization of Douche Bags In... In...
[WOMAN GRUNTS THEN GUESTS GASP]
Do you mind? It's the caterer. - ARCHER: Right. Okay, sure.
[WOMAN GRUNTS THEN GUESTS GASP]
Nyet. Under no circumstance are you to harm the hostess. Who, um...
Yes, frestelse. It means "temptation."
ARCHER: Then we need to lock down your cover story. And, uh...
No, in this case it would be pascal. - Ugh. Hey, Europe, be gayer.
Torvald, a toast? - Sure, go crazy.
...try to explain this little barbecue to the co-op board.
I think he's already being regale. - PAM: Meatballs!
I think you'll be very surprised by... - I detest surprises.
Oh, Torvald. I am very tempt.
You poison my food over a contract? - Torvald, I swear I didn't...
Nobody, that's why I'm late. Woodhouse just disappear.
You poison my food over a contract? - Torvald, I swear I didn't...
People with servants, idiot. - If they steal pills...
And what is this we're eating? - It smell vaguely poisonous.
He's a fully integrate multi-fetish artificial being.
That is the most disgusting... - Shut up. Shut, shut. And the best part...
Who are also shoot blanks.
UTA: Why don't you just pour it on everybody's?
Then I throw myself in front of Utne, shielding him with my supple body...
Tomorrow, liebchen, I promise, but to...
I feel that Carina better capture my sensual womanhood.
I have an inbox? - Utne decide which spy agency...
...and I need you ready, lock and loaded.
...as you're gun down by ISIS agents.
...that exact moment to explode outwards. - What?
...gets the insanely lucrative UN contract.
CYRIL: ODIN gets to go on Outward Bound. - MALORY: ODIN can suck it. Now shoot.
Wash-and-fold, technically. - ISIS needs that UN contract.
WOODHOUSE: Only temporarily, sir.
No, I just meant like she literally killed somebody.
Just strange to hear it out loud.
Fister Roboto wouldn't take that. - He's just too damn sensitive.
And besides, we're not going far.
What do you mean "with"? - Against. Obviously. Duh.
Normally I wouldn't, but Malory... - But that's ISIS for you.
...so absolutely nothing can go wrong.
MALORY: Exactly. All right, drop them there...
But suave master-spy, Sterling Archer, stands alone.
Ooh. See, here's the thing... - We're actually together.
I think they're kind of sexy.
And besides, we're not going far.
Ooh. See, here's the thing... - We're actually together.
Torvald is an incorrigible poon hound. - TORVALD: Ha, ha.
And I don't want another one of your sullen whores using my medicine cabinet...
Destiny? No, she's not passable. With that Adam's apple...
But suave master-spy, Sterling Archer, stands alone.
Give me that. Some idiot dropped a fish ball on my Azerbaijani rug.
Then I throw myself in front of Utne, shielding him with my supple body...
Well? - Oh, was that not rhetorical?
Tell me, my dear, is it tempting?
...gets the insanely lucrative UN contract.
Get away from me, you disgusting woman.
MALORY: You're next. - ARCHER: Cyril, that was pathetic.
I feel that Carina better captures my sensual womanhood.
This Archer is a gigantic douche bag.
Because I think you have some serious and unresolved issues with your father.
I find your lack of faith disturbing. - I find your mannish hands disturbing.
You brought this ridiculous thing. - Is it so ridiculous...
Rotten gravlax, sex-bots, and, uh...
...next to that awful Louis Quinze repro.