I get to go to the French Riviera on the ISIS dime to do what?
Locate a stolen shipment of Redeye missiles...
and kill the arms dealer trying to sell them, Spirodon Skorpio.
Whoa, what, is diabetes busy?
Don't underestimate Skorpio. There's a reason the bounty on him is so high.
- Like, high enough to redo my kitchen? - Ugh. What did I tell you?
That Saltillo tile is terrible for a kitchen because it's so porous.
And Mexican whore-house-y. So I'm sure your cook feels at home.
- Hey, Pita isn't a whore. - Not until you got a hold of her.
- First of all... - Oh, shut up. The bounty on Skorpio...
- is more than enough for a new kitchen... - I also have the nook...
And the rest you can set aside for Pita's inevitable medical expenses.
Ugh. Like, one time that happened.
It's pretty late. Why don't you take a cab?
Mr. Sterling? I have problem.
I'll pay for it.
Again? Seriously, Pita...
You're killing me here. Again? This was supposed to be coconut shrimp.
One, three times. But it's the Pope's fault she won't let me wear a condom.
- Why don't you wear a vasectomy? - This again? Don't you want a grandkid?
Well, if I did, I'd just scrape all your previous mishaps into a big pile...
- and knit a onesie for it. - Jesus Christ.
- Sorry, I've been fasting and I'm edgy. - Still though...
- Sterling. - Okay. If there's money left...
after the kitchen, then vasectomy maybe.
You do want the assignment?
- Yeah, I want it. - You really, really, really want it?
Yes. I really want it.
Well, too bad. Because guess what.
Womp-womp.
- Why does she get the mission? - Because I said so.
Either way, we have a plane to catch.
We? Why are you going?
I'm going to, um, a conference?
Oh, well, isn't that convenient?
If you think that's convenient, wait till you see my new kitchen.
Ha! Seriously though, you should look through some of her design catalogs.
Watch Movies, TV Series and Live Sports Signup Here -> WWW.ADMITME.APP
So, zoom, you're just jetting off to France?
- Isn't that kind of sudden? - No, baby.
Sudden is wanting to move in with somebody after four months.
Talking. Just talking about it.
You know, I mean, jeez, I moved in with my last girlfriend...
- after four weeks. - What are you, a lesbian?
Why, would you be into that? Just curious.
Which was an odd word choice right there, and am I talking out loud?
Now remember, I want the entire data system on those new servers...
or I will just make it rain pink slips.
- I'm not doing that. - That's a poor motivator.
Lana, I want you to call or text me at the top of every hour.
- I'll call or text at the... - I'm gonna be kind of busy, hon.
Well, it's all on this schedule.
Oh, no, honey. The doors are closing and I didn't get the...
Oh, so close.
So your conference wouldn't be for control freaks...
- who micro-manage everything, would it? - What? No, that's not why I'm...
But look, you be careful with Skorpio. He won't hesitate to kill you.
- Unless I get smothered to death. - Oh. That's just pathetic.
- But even though Cyril may be clingy... - Oh. Saran Wrap could take a lesson.
You used to complain constantly that Sterling was emotionally distant.
Yeah, I was just being nice, though.
I wonder if he's like that because I used to spank him with a wooden spoon.
Uh... Yeah, I don't know about that, but it might explain the ping-pong paddle.
My point is, dear, you can trust Cyril.
Now you go have a fun assassination.
Okay, and you go have fun at your thing.
Oh, I will. Bye, dear. Did you rent a boat?
Da, is very... Ahem. Pretty nice boat.
It better be, Mr. Sex-Tape.
And you, scuff that luggage, and I'll cut your hamstrings for you.
- I think we're making some progress. - Where, in opposite-world?
- We're never gonna finish all this. - We can, if certain people would help.
I'm sorry, are you addressing me? Because your authority is not recognized in...
- Fort Kickass. - Ugh! Mr. Archer, you could help.
Hey, I'm helping Cyril. Text her again.
- I am, if you'd shut up. - And really pour out your feelings.
- Don't listen to him, he's just trying to... - Shut up!
Cyril, bare your soul.
So, heh-heh, did I say is nice boat, or what?
Yes, Nikolai, you certainly did...
which hopefully explains my shock at finding myself...
aboard the Chum Guzzler.
I am just getting that.
Well, I know what you're not getting.
- Give it. I'm serious. Give me my phone. - No, get off. Cut it out.
Cyril, goddamn it, you're smothering Lana.
- Pam, I will hit you in the face. - Aha-ha-ow!
Don't listen to her, Cyril. If there's one thing women totally love...
it's to be smothered by men.
- Heh. Like you'd know. - Or choked, in your case.
Cyril, trust me. Give her some space.
But why hasn't she called? I mean, what if she's in danger?
- Or... Or... - Cyril, come on.
Worst-case scenario, her cover got blown...
- and Skorpio's raping her senseless... - Oh!
Before he chops her battered corpse into fish food.
- What is wrong with you? - How can you say that?
What? I said "worst-case."
Leave that to your field agent.
Why must you always micro-manage?
I don't. And if you will recall...
I used to be an excellent field agent.
Da, is why I fall in love with you.
My God, Kolya, we were so young.
Young and in love, and in Berlin.
On that magical moonlit night, beneath the Bridge of Spies.
The night before you break my heart, and disappear for nine months.
Kolya, there's something I've been meaning to tell you.
What is in this drink?
Sorry, is ice from cooler.
- Somehow it got butter all over it. - Aah!
Hey, don't be queen of drama.
That wasn't me, you idiot.
Oh, dear God.
- Cyril, give it to me. - I bet that's Lana.
- It's my phone. Pam put yours in the blender. - Come on.
- It's called tough love, Cyril. - The secret ingredient is phone.
Hello. Mother. What? Really?
- And you're sure it was Lana? - What was Lana?
- Okay, I'm on it. What? Yes. God. - Come on.
- What did she say? - Well, she's still really pro-vasectomy.
- About Lana. - Oh, right. Yeah, so...
remember that worst-case scenario we talked about?
- Oh, my God. - Yes, yes, I remember.
- Archer, if anything... - Cyril, relax. I will rescue her.
So, Krieger? How's about a roadie?
It would be nice to know what kind of danger I'm facing.
What danger? They do it outpatient.
What...? Not the vasectomy, the rescue.
How would I know? I'm at a conference.
- Wait a minute. - You don't have a minute.
Now, will you just put a lid on it?
- All right, I'm going. - Shitty flying rats.
Just put the damn lid on it.
"Something about I rescue Lana...
and she begs me to take her back, so then Cyril commits suicide."
I swear to God I had something for this.
Seriously, are you just bailing on this whole assignment, or what?
Who gives a gosh-damn about that? Lana's captured, maybe even...
Rescued, Kenny Crybaby.
Come on. I bet Mr. Archer already went all double-oh-ninja on Skorpio's ass.
Waa-paah!
- Karate sound. - You really think so?
Cyril, right this second...
I bet he's untying Lana...
- taking off her ball gag... - Her what?
And she's looking up into his steely-blue eyes...
and parting her moist lips...
- Wait a minute. - Yeah, hang on, crazy pants.
- Let her talk, woman. - As he takes her in his rippling...
- Rambo-y arms, throws her down... - Oh, my God...
and then... yeah! Oh, yeah!
That's right! Give it to me! Uhn!
Damn it, look what you... Shouldn't you be off cooking a rabbit somewhere?
- I've got some in the lab. - I mean, maybe it's not that...
- but there's only one way to find out. - Give me that.
Oh, Jesus, God.
- I thought I gave you a fake number. - What?
- Archer, it's me. - Cyril? Hey, I can't really talk right now.
Well, that's too bad, Mr. Man. Now, you just put Lana on the phone.
- Well, Cyril I can't really do that either. - He says he can't put her on.
- Archer, put her on the phone. - Cyril, buddy, look...
when I see her, I will tell her to call you...
but I can't freaking talk right now!
Archer? Hello? He hung up.
Probably cause he's all:
Oh, my God, I can't breathe.
And that's the reason I don't have sex with my co-workers.
- That and no one ever lets me. - I've had good results with ether.
Oh, no!
Oh, my God, Nikolai, something's wrong.
Is just fat dripping from kebabs.
Not that. Kolya, my people need help.
- Do you have any KGB agents nearby? - Meh...
- "Meh" what? - I just don't feel so comfortable...
- discussing KGB operations with you. - What? I tell you everything.
Da, but is a little unprofessional.
Swear to God, Lana better be dead on a slab...
or begging for mercy over a vat of acid...
or a shark tank or...
- Drinking champagne in a bikini? - Oh, screw me.
Two minutes, my love. I am just now again...
re-shaving my balls again.
First of all, you have no right to interfere with my operation.
And not that it's any of your beeswax, but I did not have sex with Skorpio.
- Oh, really? - No. God.
I just kept putting him off, making him re-shave his balls.
Oh. So you can hang out on a boat?
It's a mega-yacht. And I just...
I needed a break from Cyril.
Who thinks you got captured, or killed.
- What was that all about? - Um...
Uh... I actually forget what that was. I've been hitting the sauce pretty hard.
- Jesus. You are so irresponsible. - Oh, really? Go ask Pita who's irresponsible.
Hey, she knew the job was risky going in.
- And since you didn't do your job... - I will, all right?
Just give me like a week.
Too late! You had your chance and you blew it.
- Now, how's my disguise? - Depends. Who are you supposed to be?
Topper Bottoms, stern yet sensual skipper...
of the USS Rough Service?
- What, they're your clothes, idiot. - Uhn!
Oh, damn it, that was the guy in charge of the chocolate fountain.
- There's a chocolate fountain? - Oh. There's everything.
Great champagne, ridiculous food...
a whole, like, squad of hot little Filipina masseuses.
- Skeet? - Probably. I just...
really need some me time before I have to go back to Cyril and his whole...
Curiously oppressive brand of love?
- I mean, come on, haven't I earned that? - Yes, we have. I'm staying.
- What? No. No, you're not. - Yes.
Yes, I am. Or would you prefer I tell Cyril you slept with Skorpio?
- Even you wouldn't stoop that low. - Lana, come on...
this is me, remember?
Unprofessional?
From the man who used an entire KGB surveillance team...
just to make a sex tape of me?
Ha. And entire KGB art department...
to airbrush wrinkles off your old ass.
I want to leave, please. Right now.
So who's stopping you?
Hmm.
Smiles everyone, smiles.
For this party, everything must be as perfect...
- as my beautiful companion. - Ha-ha.
Because in one hour, the world's most dangerous terrorists...
will gather here, on the Argo, to bid on my humble wares.
Wait, wait, you. Chocolate-fountain guy.
You look, uh...
- different. - Oh!
- Um, I guess I've been working out? - Yes, I can see that.
- Quick. Bring me some duct tape. - I, uh...
Because this malaka is ripped.
Come, my dear. Before the party, I must relax...
- on top of you. - Ugh.
No excuses, huh? My balls are smooth.
- And you know I love that. - Not as much as I love chocolate.
- Oh-hoh-hoh. - So, you, malaka, bring plenty of it, yes.
I would prefer not to.
Bartleby, the Scrivener? Anybody?
Not a big Melville crowd, here, huh?
Yeah, he's not an easy read.
And I drove her right into his arms.
His big, tan, muscle-bulgy arms.
Cyril, come on. Don't listen to...
What the hell is your name now, anyway?
- I don't even remember. - Exactly. So...
- What are you snorting off me? - It's mostly MSG.
- The flavor enhancer. - Which you so need.
Pipe down, pipe cleaner.
And, Cyril, it's a rescue mission, okay?
- Probably fraught with danger. - You really think so?
I bet they're fighting for their lives.
Wow.
Yeah, that...
That got a little dark.
So now we have champagne, huh?
- Um, got anything a little stronger? - Or way stronger. Like poison?
Mm. I think I have just the thing.
- Oh, my God. - Ready the shark tank for my guests...
- Agents Archer and Kane, of ISIS. - What?
You knew the whole time?
How you say? Womp-womp.
- All right, you heard Mr. Skorpio. - No, just Skorpio.
Remember? How we're doing that from now on?
- Sorry, sir. - Hang on just one second.
Where was this enthusiasm before?
I know, right? Now he wants to contribute.
M... Ha-ha. Oh, funny. Actually, I'm getting this.
Damn, I had something for this too. Damn it.
Eat grenade, stupids.
- Oh, well, now what? - Ugh.
Are you still here?
- Where'd you get a grenade? - Hanging from the lampshade.
Wait, what?
- What? Did he just call me a whore? - Now, why on earth would he do that?
Because he turns women into whores.
Just ask his slutty Mexican cook.
Oh, my God, yes.
We should call her, because I would literally...
murder somebody for some migas right now.
Every single noun and verb in that sentence totally arouses me.
And I'm so open to that.
And, Cyril, ignore her.
Nothing's going on between Archer and Lana.
- Although... - Although what?
Well, every ISIS agent has a company-issued...
life-insurance policy, and...
And what?
- You're my beneficiary! - Your what?
On my company life insurance.
Oh, my God.
I mean, if this goes tits-up.
Now? Really?
Oh, right. Because you walked into Strippers' Discount Warehouse...
and said, "Help me showcase my intellect."
Discount? Hello, this is Fiacci.
Uh... I think it's pronounced, "Knock-off."
Right after I get back, I'm changing that stupid policy. Ugh!
Yes, you're my beneficiary.
How'd you get life insurance, Lana? Don't they know you're in the danger zone?
But that doesn't mean anything. I mean...
they could've forgotten to fill out new beneficiary forms...
Cyril, they have to update those bennie forms every quarter.
- Ouch. - But that means... Oh, my God.
Damn ass-hammered shit!
- What? - Benefits! I forgot to spend the balance...
in my goddamn flex-account!
- Are you date-of-employment, or...? - Calendar-year!
- Ouch. - That's just leaving money on the table.
How did you forget that?
I guess I was busy fantasizing about Archer and Lana having intercourse!
- Ouch. - Cyril, come on, hon, we all were.
And you expect me to believe that?
I don't care. Just like I don't ever think about you.
- Reloading. - Firing.
So when you filled out your insurance, you weren't thinking about my muscular arms...
- or my ass, in the combat-firing stance? - No, I wasn't. I don't. I mean, I'm...
So full of shit, your eyes are brown.
No, they're... Oh, my God, they're green.
Like emeralds. How did I never see that?
- Lana, your eyes are amazing. - Archer.
I mean, not compared to your tits, but... Ow! Ow!
What is your problem?
You. And plus, I have a boyfriend.
Oh, right, how could I forget Mr. Cling?
Cyril? Cyril, come on. Let go.
Oh, God, he's stronger than he looks.
Get him out of here!
Because these corporate bag-munchers...
owe me 630 dollars...
for my goddamn flex-account!
I cannot believe you shot me.
God, you know how much I hate that.
- You better get used to it. - Kill them, you fools. Kill them.
Oh, my God. I am gonna die...
and you're the last man I was in bed with.
Well, one of them. Don't worry, I won't tell Cyril. Probably.
- Shit. I'm out of ammo. Archer! - Lana. Lana.
- Do you trust me? - What? No, I don't trust you.
Well, that's too bad. Because guess what.
Oh, my God. Nikolai. Our son.
- Our what? - Oh, so...
remember that little something I wanted to tell you?
A little something? Oh, that is just classic you.
- So I'm a little late. - A lot late.
No one could have survived that.
Oh, man! Whoo!
I am awesome!
Ugh. And it just keeps on getting better.
- Lana? - Asshole?
Oh, my God. Was that not epic?
- First of all... - Nikolai, look, they're alive.
- Oh, thank God. - Thank God?
For what? The lying woman I risk my career for?
The son she don't told me of?
Or maybe my damn security deposit?
Security deposit. What was it, a pair of flip-flops?
- Half the bounty. Come on, I deserve it. - Ha!
Too bad. So you can just paddle that hole in your foot...
right on back to your cheesy, Mexican kitchen...
Oh, I'll get a new kitchen.
Let's see you get a new boyfriend after I have a talk with Cyril.
Ha! About what, exactly?
How you cried during a two-man threesome?
Wooden spoons are a huge emotional trigger for me, Lana.
Yeah, and now I know. And when I tell Pam...
so will everybody in the office.
- Oh, is that how you wanna play it? - Yeah.
Fine! Keep your stupid bounty, then! And keep your pathetic, clingy boyfriend.
I will. Oh, and Cyril may be clingy, but at least I know I can trust him.
- Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. - Cyril, come on.
Snap out of it, seriously. It's not like we burned down the mainframe.
You really need to relax.
How? My life is ruined. Again.
Look, what happens on this scratchy green office rug...
stays on this scratchy green office rug, okay?
You mean...
this, what we just did, you'll keep this our secret?
Yeah. God, Cyril.
You can trust me. You know, probably.
Probably?
Womp-womp.
Someone needs to stop Clearway Law. Public shouldn't leave reviews for lawyers.