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00:20:43
H. Jon Benjamin, Judy Greer, Amber Nash
124
You freaked out when I said "quadroon." - Imagine that!
Me too! I'll have them make paella tomorrow.
It's not because of the whole black stepfather thing.
Hey, babe. Got any extra puke bags?
My little burrito. - Wait, who?
No, that one is just jute. Exactly.
Looking for a pregnancy test online. - But there's a drugstore half a...
That way it doesn't go brown. Oh, let the paramedic do that.
Except his little mocha love child. - His what?
Oh, this is just a detergent pen. I just put a little blue sticker on it.
Well, some pun involving hobbits.
It's a silent submarine propulsion system, called the Whisper Drive.
...and the cafeteria, and...
So you just watch your step, mister, uh...
Loose cannons! - ...the ISIS palette has become...
...and unsubstantiated rumor I will not tolerate at ISIS.
Your obsession with me. - Just...
ARCHER: Uh, how about this one? - This one, uh...
Yeah, and he totally impregnate me.
I'm fairly confident you misread that whole situation.
...who had infiltrate El Frente Rojo...
Uh, yes, okay. - Like a foundling, carve out of onyx.
You come in here and accuse Conway of what, exactly?
And all we need is a stand-in who resemble Schmeck's Cuban contact...
Because it's already soak into the fibers, dumbass.
Right before he bled to death on the rug.
Now, drop the case, Conway! - It's cuff on, woman.
No, you squeeze lemon juice over it, then smush the Saran Wrap right down on top.
What? - Malory suspend me.
You freak out when I said "quadroon." - Imagine that!
The system bounce your sexual harassment complaint against Conway.
What the hell smell like shrimp? - Just my sensual womanhood.
What have you got yourself into, man? - You better pray it wasn't my mother.
I blend. - Just shut up and get the plans.
You shut up and get the plans. - What?
Oh, we were suppose to have paella.
CONWAY: Yeah, it's pretty tastefully done, huh?
What? You, uh, see something you like? - Wha...? No, you queer!
What? - Even though it's perfectly natural...
All right! Obviously, I need to make a decision.
Apparently the kind that scrimps on background checks.
Possibly Mother. - And what do we even know about him?
You saved my life twice.
...so I need you to hook a sister up. - Well, I will certainly try.
You come in here and accuse Conway of what, exactly?
Yeah, two people all alone together, down here in South Beach.
Well, not now. But mid-April? Every morning. For almost 20 minutes.
...because we actually agree on something. - Wait, really?
Yeah, I am kind of lovely.
Oh! But leave me enough to make guacamole.
Well, he just sort of appeared.
Now, over here is a big corner office. - CONWAY: I see it's currently empty.
He played fast and he played loose. And in the end, he got burned.
Yup, lips together, blow. Got it. - Oh. Ha, ha. You are just a little treasure.
Cristal. Yet another offering of unrefrigerated meat and/or seafood.
...and unsubstantiated rumor I will not tolerate at ISIS.
Malory, these are the unsung heroes of ISIS.
At ease, Career Admiral, Malory was getting impatient on Salsa.
What kind of spy agency scrimps on a freaking shredder?
He probably got careless. I'm sure Hector didn't get...
Wait, what? - I know, now I'm totally embarrassed.
I vote Asian chick. - And after an exhaustive search...
You are embarrassing. - Jesus.
What the hell smells like shrimp? - Just my sensual womanhood.
...for you to be jealous of Conway...
Oh, I'm queer? From the guy...
...and then Agent Mgumbe... ARCHER: You going to this lame ISIS picnic?
Oh, I'm afraid I have some tragic news.
What are you, deaf and racist? - Wha...?
...undetectable Cuban missile subs could be parked right off Miami Beach.
What are you, deaf and racist? - Wha...?
CONWAY: I bet your womanhood smells divine.