- Come on, you know you want it. - You don't know what I want.
Oh, yes, I do. Come on, just the tip.
I don't know. It's pretty big. I think it's just the
standard breakfast burrito size. Here, first take a bite of mine.
No, first you take a bite of mine. Let's do it together.
- Is that crazy? Oh, my God, okay. - Mmm.
- Oh, my, God. - Men's room? - Broom closet.
It's dirtier. No, bring the burrito. Oh, my, God!
Well, we were all thinkin' it.
That and how chili's not breakfast.
Well, technically anything's breakfast, if it's your first meal of the day.
Oh, then Ray's right. And also, duh.
Well, hooray. Give yourself a hand. You know what?
I know you better sit your ass down before I slam an Easy Spirit up it.
Oooh! Whoa, hey, Pam, Ray, come on you two.
You're not mad at each other. You're mad at the unspeakably revolting
symbiotic mass of bodily fluids
that is now Archer and Lana.
They make me sick!
Rub it in our faces how we're doomed to be alone.
Well, your face. And Ray's, I guess.
Wait, nobody's rubbin' off in my face.
Yeah, that's her point. And think how hard watching them
must be for Cyril. No! It's--
That's not-- I mean, come on!
I'm totally over Lana, so... Cyril!
You can lie to yourself...
- Obviously, look at your sweater. - ...but don't lie to Team Breakup.
- Uh what? - Guys, it's obvious what we gotta do.
Throw acid in their kissy faces.
No! Wait!
You want to try to break them up?
I mean, it's either that or... Ssss...
No! The solution to every problem isn't throwing frickin' acid on it!
Unless the problem is a solution with an overly-alkaline pH balance.
Krieger, hush! Pam? You have a plan?
I don't know. Maybe we could do something like one of those bait cars?
But obviously, the car would be a vagina.
Hmm. Okay, so we get a woman
that Archer would find irresistible.
Maybe by having her fog a mirror.
Then put her in Archer's path,
and his pathological need to sleep
with every woman he meets does the rest.
Or, you know, a lot of couples break up if their kid dies.
Really? Whoa!
Yeah. Easy peasy.
We hire somebody to kidnap their fat, gross baby.
There's this huge man-slash-baby hunt.
It's in all the newspapers.
On the wireless. America's going apeshit.
Then, we double-cross the kidnapper,
who obviously we paid with easily-traceable gold certificates.
We plant a shitload of dicey evidence in his garage.
Tip off the cops-- he's basically convicted of being German,
and then, bzz-zap!
Dirtnap for the kraut! Compliments of old Sparky.
God damn! Wireless?
But wait. If it's a kidnapping--
Uhh! The child is sent to Bhutan,
where for the next 20 years, she's raised and trained as an assassin
by Ra's al Ghul before returning to destroy
those who once betrayed her.
Us.
Yes! But it buys us time.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
Oh, my God, Lana.
That was insane!
It's insane, like, every time now.
What is going on with you?
- Go-going on with me how? What do you mean? - I mean--
and uh, don't take this the wrong way, but--
did your dick get bigger?
I don't think so. Is that a thing?
I think I would have heard of it!
Wait, in Le Retour de Martin Guerre,
didn't his get bigger? Nope. His feet got smaller.
Oh. Well, I know my feet are the same.
His wife fell in love with him when he came back because he was caring
and loving, which he wasn't before.
Larger penis probably didn't hurt.
And I'm sure my feet are the same, Lana.
My cordwainer would have said something.
Well, whatever it is, for some reason
I don't have to suppress my gag reflex now
whenever you mention your cordwainer.
Well, what should I call him? A shoemaker?
What I'm trying to say is, you were different
than you were when you dated the first time.
More mature, maybe? And definitely more focused on me.
- Well? - As opposed to every single woman you meet in a bar
or at a party or just merely walking down the street.
I-- yeah. Uh. I'm sorry for that... time. Zzz.
Times, yes. Plural. And I promise you,
that won't ever happen again. It better not.
Because this time-- It's really kinda good, right?
No, Archer, it's great! Somehow.
I can't remember when I was this happy!
You recently gave birth to a child.
Shit, right!
But besides that, this is the happiest I've been in a while!
Which, obviously, is why we can't tell mother we're dating again.
Obvious? Because she'd try to break us up somehow.
She can't stand for me to be in a relationship.
I think it actually causes her physical pain.
You realize your relationship with Malory isn't a huge selling point?
Y-yeah. So, to make up for it, what say I
bend you back over the mop sink?
Bring it, Sommersby.
Because, you ding dong, our bait-car hooker
has to be hotter than Lana.
- Pfft, that won't be hard! - What?
Did you suddenly go blind?
No, phew!
But Pam, come on. The prostitutes on this website
are like-- jeezy petes!
Some of them are 10,000 a night!
Yeah. So two grand apiece! Are you--
I wouldn't even pay $2,000 to get myself laid.
Well, maybe now, but a few more weeks without that hand...
That's not even the hand-- I don't see how that's any of your beeswax!
Speaking of, do I smell beeswax?
- Probably. - Maybe you can pay one of these high-class hookers with it.
- Really? - No!
Damn. Because I'm not chipping in 2,000 bucks.
Or even 1,000. Because I just found out our shitty insurance
doesn't cover prosthetic limbs! Really?
How do you not-- you're head of H.R.!
Probably because I got two frickin' hands!
Earballs.
If I wanted to hear you people scream,
I'd have you flown to a CIA black site
in Morocco and listen to your torture session on speakerphone!
Speaking of, any word from Slater? No.
Not a word from the CIA since you idiots ruined the mission
with the Durhani royal family.
So I have no idea what our status is.
For all I know, we're wanted for treason again.
Well, no news is good news.
You do realize this is an intelligence agency?
Ostensibly. What?
Nothing.
Yeesh. Why don't we just tell her they're dating?
She'll make them so crazy they'll break up on their own.
Because then she would tell them we told her,
and then even if I did want Lana back-- which I don't--
It wouldn't matter!
Because Mr. Archer would feed you your own bones!
Well, I don't know about that!
Please. You'd die of marrow poisoning.
So come on! Let's pick a hooker!
One that Archer's never had sex with. Is there one?
You're forgetting what the largest sex organ on the human body is.
The... penis?
Well, I was gonna say vagina.
I was gonna say Pam's vagina. Me too.
The brain!
Eww! Eww!
Not like that-- what is wrong with you people?
Ray's missing a hand.
Archer won't risk his relationship with Lana
for a previous conquest-- especially a prostitute!
For a man like him, it's all about the hunt.
They're all gonna have-- I said hunt.
Oh. Still, though... So we have to pay a hooker up front
to bump into Archer somewhere and just hope he's never banged her?
Come on, it's New York. I bet it's 20,000 hookers here.
What are the odds Mr. Archer already banged whichever one we pick?
I was gonna say 50/50.
Me too. I was gonna say "Pam's vagina."
So, we have to find a beautiful woman
who Archer's never had sex with. Or--
Well, that counts me out. Me too.
Which part? Keep it up, Stumplestiltskin.
Or, both of you shut up.
Better yet, a woman who has a powerful psychological hold over Archer.
Please, tell me you don't mean his mother.
What? Yeah, because even for us--
I'm not talking about Miss Archer!
The only woman Archer ever really cared about besides Lana is...
What? Who?
Seriously? Yeah. Who is it?
Hang on, before we call her, are we sure we want to do this?
No, you're my smoochy-boochy.
Eww. Ugh.
So. Is there a country code, or--
Da? Yes. This is Colonel Kazanova.
Yes. Oh, really?
Yes? Yes? I understand.
Yeah. Yes. Good-bye.
Who was that? Who was who?
What are you talking about? Uh-- you were--
Did you just now have telephone call? No!
Don't be an idiot. Also, I must go to America.
Unrelated to the telephone call that I just did not receive.
Cyril! Archer.
How are you holding up, buddy? With regard to--
Me and Lana?
Oh-ho. Right. Gotta be tough, huh?
Yeah, I'm barely muddling through.
I'm sensing a little sarcasm.
Really? Yes, Cyril, I am.
Maybe that's because I don't care that you're dating Lana,
because... you'll never have what she and I had.
Like what? Like... uh...
I don't know, Archer. The little things.
Like Stir Friday. You're right, Cyril.
Nothing I could do could ever compare to the sensual pleasures
to be found in a greasy wok full of tiny ears of corn
and meat the exact size and shape of dice. Which--
You just realized is why that method of chopping food is called "dicing."
Maybe. And maybe since it's Friday, Cyril,
tonight, I'm gonna make Lana stir-fry!
You-- what? No! Yes! So, soy you later!
"Soy!"
Operation Stir Cry-day is go, over.
Copy that, Figgis Newton. What?
And also, shitty operation name.
Why can't you use the women's?
And why'd you give me a walkie-talkie? Why do you care?
- About either? - Wait. What?
Dinner? Tonight? My place? I'll cook.
What is this, like a word scramble?
No, it's like me cooking you dinner.
You, as in, Woodhouse? No, me as in me, Lana.
I don't even know where Woodhouse is.
I actually haven't seen him in, like, weeks.
Uh-huh.
I'm cooking. Me, Lana. Me. Me!
You two and your constant bickering. What is it this time?
Lana's hogging the copier.
I swear to sweet Jesus... Okay, Julia Childish.
I'll get a sitter for A.J. So, what time is dinner?
And can I bring anything? Let's say sevenish,
and yes, you can bring 100 copies of this.
Wait. What?
Come on!
Sorry, I had to get stakeout supplies, and--
What happened to your van? We can't stake out Archer's apartment
in the rush van, it's way too iconic.
Wait, this is actual ice cream.
Plus, I've been moonlighting.
Shut up! Okay, little help here, nerm-nerts.
Think you got enough beer? No.
But I brought a couple joints.
No, it's cool. I got it, Woodhouse.
Unless you came home? You little scamp!
Woodhouse? Woodhouse!
Seriously, I hope he didn't die.
Meemo. Check obituaries.
Meemo. Tell Woodhouse to buy newspap-- damn!
No, that's just a feedback loop.
Wha-- God damn it, Woodhouse, you stack of bones,
if you're using my bathroom, you're gonna need an obitu--
What the--
Woodhouse?
No, my darling. It is I! Katya?
Well, you sound surprised, darling.
Well, wh-- Why are you in my bathroom?
Oh, I was just preparing.
In my apartment. In America!
Oh, I just had to see you, darling.
I have been longing for your tender touch.
Well-- but just, like, out of the blue?
Was Barry's touch not tender? Or--
I-- how you say, uh-- "dump" Barry.
All right! You knew this?
I assumed it was bound to happen,
since Barry was such a douche.
And still is. Presumably.
And also alive, and not crushed and then burned to death
in a grain silo. Presumably.
What is the matter, darling? Are you not excited to see your Katya?
Mm... no, "excited" is actually the exact word I would have cho--
ho-ho-haw-- oh.
Oh, my God!
This is, like, the perfect day.
Ahh! The day Archer finally gets what's been coming to him
all these years.
So, wait. When did you put all those cameras in his apartment?
The same time I did the rest of-- you know what's good?
Hochschiebens! Yeah, let's all have a hochschieben!
Mmm! Das ist lecker, no?
Yes! I mean, no. I mean, my neck's all sweaty.
It can't possibly taste good, so--
I love, is-- is salty. It's like caviar.
Which, boy! Talk about an acquired taste, huh?
And a little-known fact--
Uh, darling, you're on fire! Oh, my God. Yeah.
- So are you. - No.
- Literally. - You mean figuratively.
Oh, God, there's so much we never had time to...
Uh, darling, there. The champagne.
Oh, ho. Very high in cholesterol. Caviar.
Darling, are you all right? Yeah. I'm fine.
Messrs. Kilgour, French, Stanbury, Turnbull and Asser... not so much.
Oh, well, then let's get you out of these wet clothes,
and into something... Dry?
Oh, I can promise you, it is not dry.
Blorp.
Well, in the immortal words of Wendell Stamps,
that's going in the slide show!
No offense.
Why would I be offen--
Oh, baby, it is all over everything.
So is Cheryl. Will you get off?
That's what she said, right?
More like what he said. Katya, please.
Please, I have to tell you something.
I'm listening. Go ahead, baby.
They're jingling, baby.
I didn't know you were a fan of early crossover mainstream hip-hop.
Oh! Or that you were that strong.
Oh, my God. I'm glad I'm not a woman.
Da, baby, ya tozhe.
No, in a general sense. Look!
Look, look, look, look! Here comes Lana!
Oh, man, I don't want to sound greedy,
but a threesome and then a break-up?
Or a foursome, and I'm the pizza guy?
You have pizza?
Dahlink, I do not understand.
I know, and me neither. This is all uncharted territory for me.
But I've changed, Katya. I've changed.
Well, I have also changed. My new operating system
includes the entire kama sutra... Wow! Okay.
The first edition of the old Mr. Boston Official Bartender's Guide...
Eep! And a deep, hard-wired
understanding and appreciation of men's lacrosse.
What did I-- darling, wait!
What? Out o' order.
Yes, thank you. I can see that.
Why you ask?
Out of order? I'll show you out of order.
Lana Kane? The giant negress?
Hey! Now come on. She's not-- What?
A negress? Gigantic.
I mean, she's tall, but a lot of that's the boots, and the hair--
and those hands aren't doing her any favors, human-size-wise.
She's basically Groot.
I mean, in the dark it's like Eubie Blake's reaching out for you, but--
But you prefer her to me?
I mean, no, but wait. You slept with Barry at our wedding!
Da-ah! At second wedding. Oh. Right.
At our first wedding-- I saved your life from Barry,
and in process, I lose my own life!
But then again, you slept with him at our second wedding, which kinda--
You were the one who could not deal with the fact that I am now cyborg!
You were the one who banged Barry! Bozhe moy!
You have not changed a bit! Ha! Shows what you know!
You Barry-banger! I have changed!
I have a kid!
Chto?
Yeah. A little baby girl, Abbiejean. With Lana.
And then we started going out again, and somehow it's...
Kind of amazing, really.
We're, like, connecting, you know? And I realize that
all this time, even though we fought like cats and a very tall dog,
we've always been best friends.
And then to realize you might actually be in love
with your best friend who also happens to be the mother of your child--
That's, like, a miracle.
And so even though I'll always have a special place for you
in my heart, and obviously in my slide show, I-- Your what?
It doesn't matter. I-- I feel like I just found Lana
after all these years, and I can't risk losing her again.
I--
Don't know what to say, Sterling.
I feel-- I feel like--
A great big, jerky giant asshole.
Right!
Well? Are we just gonna sit here?
Lazy, lazy, fatty fatty gaijin! Whee!
I mean, how do you not murder her every day?
I do.
No, please, I feel like the asshole.
I mean, look at you. I literally cannot believe I'm asking you to go.
But you must.
Yeah. I've seen her crush a cue ball.
Oh, I forgot something in bathroom. I'll mail it to you.
But you got to go now! She'll be here any second.
Whoo! Suck it, you... dick stairs.
Is a bit awkward, to leave from balcony.
I know, sorry, but the elevator's out,
and I can just see you two running into each other on the stairs.
Uh, no, I mean because the last time I leave your apartment
from balcony-- Oh, right!
You died. But the last time,
I did not have this.
- Wow. - Da. It is also very good for bondage, mild BDSM,
things of this nature.
I bet. May I kiss you good-bye, Sterling?
Yes. Yes, pleas--
I will miss you. Very much.
Me too. But if it's any consolation,
I'll be thinking of you the next... several times I have sex with Lana.
Well, good-bye...
Sterling.
Oh, holy shit, I got to make stir-fry.
Why is the door open? That's weird.
Lana! What? What the shit?
There's-- Oh, I got a stitch.
What are you idiots doing here?
What am I even doing here?
Well, Archer, the first thing you're doing is making a very stiff drink.
Well?
Cyril? You gotta... What?
Cyril's gotta... tell you something.
No I don't! Yeah, you do.
Yeah, Cyril! That is just...
Cyril! What?
Lana, please don't go in there because I still love you.
There. I said it.
Wow. Yeah!
Ha!
So. How's all that going?
Not great.
Jesus, Woodhouse really is gone, huh?
Which-- here are your flyers. Yeah, I actually don't need them.
What? After I made all these copies?
Well, who's gonna put 'em up, Lana? Hey! Whoa.
I did not just schlep my ass up your jillion idiot stairs
- to eat your shitty attitude for dinner, mister. - I--
I might as well go eat with Cyril. At least he can cook stir-fry.
And, he's still totally in love with me. Wha'?
Yeah. Right outside, just dumped his purse all over the welcome mat.
Ugh! So pathetic.
Seriously. Maybe try growing a pair.
But here I am with the old Archer. Wha'--
I'm not the old Archer. I'm the new Archer!
I've changed, Lana. Please, you're halfway to half in the bag.
As usual, walkin' around in your--
Why are you in your spreefs?
They compliment my active lifestyle?
Archer... Um...
Uh-huh. Oh, what, what, Lana!
Wait! No, there's nothing in there.
You call this nothing?
Yeah, so...
Because I call it smoochy-boochy town. Uh-- hmm?
Smooth jazz, rose petals, candles--
not sure what happened there, but oh, my gosh! And Dom Pérignon?
Which, I assume, was delicious.
Uh, expensive fire extinguisher.
Well, then go get a few more bottles out of the fridge
just to be safe, because I am gonna burn you down!
Back in a sec,
new Archer...
Yeah. I-I am new! I am, Lana.
I mean, I feel like a brand new man!
I've really changed!
Really? Ee-yah!
Then why...
is there a vagina in the sink!
Um, so... Funny story.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
www.tvsubtitles.net