All language subtitles for You.S04E05.1080p.NF_.WEB-DL.DDP5_.1.H.264-SMURF

Previously on You:

Lady Phoebe's country house,

all of us under one roof.

What they don't know is they're bringing
the killer with them.

One of them is you.

I'm a free spirit.

I like to feel.

Secrets make you feel
like you're living your life.

I might propose to Phoebe.

If I marry her, life gets easier.

Deals have not panned out.

I am running out of runway.

Roald doesn't just love her.
He's obsessed.

Roald loves Kate.
Kate's with Malcolm. Malcolm ends up dead.

Simon threatens Kate's career.
No more Simon.

Roald has got motive and opportunity.

It's funny, this game.

Every year, someone gets hurt.

Kate!

I've been here before.

Of course this would happen.

Of course this woman
I've somehow fallen in with would be you.

I don't know why I grabbed this.

Can the sight of a corpse
really still upset you?

Or is this fun?

Can't have anyone else walk in.

I just need to think.

If you're the only person who heard,
we have a minute.

Everything you did,
up to and including what I see now,

was seduction, was to manipulate me.

What was she doing in my room?

Did she just wander in here drunk
and then just get herself...?

You... You don't think I did this?

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Lifetime of training
and being the one person

who doesn't fall to pieces
in an emergency, and now I look...

I am not a murderer.

Convincing but you've been convincing.

It's all been a game.

Why are you worried about others coming?
Why aren't you calling for help?

I can't call for help.
That would involve security.

They are my father's, Jonathan.
I told you what kind of man he is.

You make him sound like someone
who could take care of this.

This?

This...

My friend who has been killed.

You have to be joking. He...

He would own me, and that is worse than...

You know, this situation doesn't
look good for you either.

And there it is.

The threat.

You heard what they were saying.

Pointing fingers at you.

Roundabout way of asking
to help hide this body.

Yeah.

Play along it is, for the moment.

Okay. I think I have an idea.

- You do?
- Yeah, I work well under pressure.

One thing.

If we do this...

once we start, we have to see it through.

Together.

As in, I don't seize
the first opportune moment I have

to pin it on you.

And I don't abandon you either.

Fine.

And once I confirm it's really you,

I can do what needs to be done.

Sir, can I get you anything?

Seen Jonathan Moore since dinner?

He was going up to his room.
He seemed a bit, uh...

wobbly.

Might've been too much for him.

Do let me know if and when he emerges.

I'd like a private word with him
before he rejoins the group.

Certainly, sir.

Oh, my fucking life.

Rude!

You all right, mate?

Perfect.

I am perfect!

Everything is perfect, right?

I'm gonna start a new business.

- I'm gonna leverage Sundry House.
- Adam.

Know what your problem is?

You seem to want to work.

Our forebears didn't pretend to earn
what was rightly theirs.

They were on another level.
Above work, above law.

Hell, in the good old days,
the aristocracy were the law.

Indeed. Fuck democracy.

- Fuck democracy!
- Fuck democracy!

No offense, Adam.

I know you Americans love that shit.

No. We love money.

If we weren't handcuffed
by the will of the people,

we could round up all of London,
draw and quarter every tenth man,

and demand answers until someone
gave up the Eat The Rich Killer.

- We'd catch the bastard in days.
- And we wouldn't have to cower

in the country.

Oh, no, I like the country.

We're in control out here.

Cheers.

Oh, my God. That...

Fuck.

Toss the dagger in too.

Yeah, good thinking.

Now what?

Like I'm the one driving this.
Your entire performance is BAFTA-worthy.

We hide her while we figure it out.

Somewhere low-traffic.

Won't be discovered for a while.

The game larder.

It's where the staff break down
the animals from the hunt.

You've done your homework.

Okay, great.

So we get the body to the game larder,

grab cleaning supplies, and put this room
back together before anybody sees.

Oh, Gemma, you were an absolute muppet,
but you didn't deserve this.

I'm sorry.

Kate?

Kate?

I'm unlocking the door, darling.

Stow your tits.

Sorry.

Sorry, but I need you
and have no time for boundaries,

which is, of course,
why you love me, so...

Jonathan.

Good.

I caught Adam with a servant.

They were talking, but I can't shake
the energy between them.

- We could talk later...
- I don't care if they're shagging.

Truly.

Copulating with the help is a grand
tradition among people of our status.

It's not a gender thing either.

His pansexuality is part of his charm.

But the way he was looking at him,
why do I get this awful feeling

that Adam's hiding
a piece of his heart from me?

Because he is.

Sorry, Adam, we need her out.

I think there might be some things
he's embarrassed to tell you about.

Nothing he should be ashamed of,
of course. Just...

A kink?

Bingo. Thank you. Go now.

Tell me more. What is it?

Phoebs, I adore you,

but you need to leave
so that Jonathan and I can fuck.

Oh.

Silly me.

Yeah, of course.

Right.

I'm off to find my other half
and spank his little booty.

Wish me luck.

Okay, one, two, three.

Antique piece of shit.

Fuck!

Do you have another idea?

Thank you, Roald.

Originally, I was gonna do it
on the Riviera, right?

But I feel like now,
now is the right time.

Just elope.

Do it seat-of-our-pants, romantic as fuck.

We'll tell the family after, right?
Carpe fucking diem.

It wasn't as heavy
as I expected her body to be.

It's easier with two people, I suppose.

Why is this my pattern?

Fall for a woman, haul corpses together.

I think I need to go back to therapy.

How are you this good at hiding bodies?

Who are you really?

Easy. Put it down...

- Did you kill Gemma?
- What?

Is your plan to kill me too

after manipulating me
into hiding her body?

You really believe that I wanna kill you
after what I just did for you?

What you just did is exactly
what a killer would do.

When I found you with Gemma, I knew

either you killed her

or someone is trying to frame you.

- Frame me?
- Yes.

- Why would...?
- The same thing happened to me.

With Malcolm.

Oh, fuck off.

The morning after my first night
at Sundry House,

I woke up and I found Malcolm...

on my table with a knife in his chest.

- Stop!
- I'm truly sorry, but I got scared.

I knew there was no way
anyone would believe I didn't do it.

So I took care of it.

You took care of it?

Please don't make me relive the details.

I've been trying
to forget them ever since.

Why didn't you say anything?

Because whoever did this
has been sending me messages.

Threats to ensure my continued silence.

They figured out I have a past.

I was married once.

To a woman who was rich and spoiled.

She did very bad things
and I stuck it out with her for too long.

For, I don't know...

family...

loyalty.

But in the end...

I had to run away.

And it cost me...

my son.

Sorry.

What's his name, your son?

I'd rather not say.

All I want is to start over.

But this killer won't let me go.

So I thought if I could stay close enough
to you and your friends, maybe I could...

keep more people from getting hurt.

A lot of good that's done.

So you were...

trying to protect me?

I believe you.

Do you believe me?

I think so.

And if you're not her,

Roald is one clever, little motherfucker.

What's this about, darling?

I saw you with the servant boy.

Let me stop you right there.

- It was a dumb onetime fling...
- I know you're hiding a kink.

Jonathan told me.

- Jonathan? How would he know...?
- Don't be annoyed.

He wants us to be happy, darling.

Adam, life partners must share
everything with each other.

Same page completely.

So, what is it?

- Hmm?
- Shall I peg you?

Uh, sure.

That's not it, is it?

- Feet?
- No.

Cake sitting?

It's not that weird
falling-down-the-stairs fetish?

- No.
- Sorry. It's not weird. Um...

Golden showers?

May I ask why this appeals?

I don't know.

All right, get on the floor.

Do you know what?
I've hydrated quite a lot today.

So kismet, really.

You sure you don't wanna
just move on to pegging?

- It's great. It might be better, actually.
- Don't be embarrassed.

Shame has no place in the boudoir.

- Shall I keep my clothes on or off?
- Up to you, darling.

All right.

Oh. Careful.

Wait, wait, wait.

Can you call me "sir"?

May I wee on you, sir?

Yeah!

But can you be, like...

forceful about it too?

Um, yeah, yeah.

I mean, I'm sorry.

It's perfect.

I love it.

Do it.

Okay.

Mm.

- Wait, what's wrong?
- Nothing.

Open your eyes and look at me.

I just... I don't want it to burn.

Go on.

Piss on me.

Phoeb. What's...? What's happening?

You don't want this.

What? Yes, I do.

I was ready to piss on your face
to prove I'm enough for you,

and you clearly don't want this
and you refuse to tell me why.

Okay, it's just that
this doesn't really work with you.

I knew it.

It's not you.

It's about the person being beneath me.

But, then, at this moment...

- they are...
- Above you.

But it's not a big deal.

You wanna do some pegging?
Let's do some pegging.

It is a big deal, Adam.

You think you're beneath me?

No, Phoebs, you're overreacting.
I know we're equals. We're great together.

Do you know where kinks come from?
The deepest parts of your mind.

And the deepest part of you is telling us
exactly what we need to know.

We aren't equals in this relationship.

- We aren't true life partners.
- No. Slow down.

We'd only end up hurting each other.

We'd be married in misery and looking
outside for what we can't give each other.

No, no, stop, stop.

I...

I love you.

Baby, I love you.

I love you.

So for your sake...

as well as mine...

No.

...it's over.

What?

Fuck.

Just relax.

You're bleeding.

So out of curiosity...

how does fucking me play into
your little secret-protector narrative?

It wasn't part of the plan.

And yet...

We gotta get back upstairs.

- Oh, no, no, no.
- What?

Shit. My bracelet.

It must have slipped off.

What if it's in the larder?
It's got my name engraved on it.

- That wouldn't be good.
- You think?

Okay, get the supplies
back up to your room.

I'll go back to the larder.

Fine, hurry. But don't get caught.

There's the young buck.

I need whatever's the strongest thing
in this fucking place.

And then,

I need to kill a little snitch-ass spy
named Jonathan Moore.

About time you came around.

You know he's fucking Kate right now.

So where are the other degenerates?

In the drawing room, snogging.

I saw Mr. Moore, sir.

He was downstairs going outside.

So Kate's alone upstairs.

It's time to take back what's yours, man.

Fuck Jonathan.

Well, that explains the bloody carpet.

So...

Gemma is in the game larder?

Temporarily.

That feels karmic almost.

You know she used to get her driver
to run over pheasants for fun?

Now she's entombed with them.

God, I'm just so relieved it wasn't you!

I would die without you.

Gemma's really more second-tier. I mean...

I'm gutted.

I really am. I don't mean to be flip.

I just... I took a bit of Ativan
after Adam...

Later. Not the time.

We should go down and warn everyone.

Phoebs, listen.

We will handle this
because we will do it properly

and the same cannot be said
for the others.

Do you agree?

Yeah.

You need to send the staff away.

We don't want anyone else getting hurt
and we need privacy

to deal with whatever's next
with the body.

I don't understand why we aren't
bringing your father's security in.

Are you kidding?

I had to dodge them to get to the larder.

But it's the only way
for us to be safe, Kate.

Your dad needn't hear
how Gemma's not in your room now.

She's just missing

and we're simply all concerned.

So they ought to closely guard us

and be subtly made to stay away
from the game larder

until we know
Jonathan isn't there anymore.

You're right.

- I'll go tell them.
- No, we.

We will go.

I need to be able to kill the murderer
with my bare teeth if they attack you.

Do you know, I...?

For a moment,
I really believed it was Jonathan.

The killer.

- Ironic.
- Yeah.

I'm so glad you were wrong.

And I'm so, so glad I'm on benzos.

Yeah, me too.

Whoever you are,
you must be laughing right now.

Fuck!

Stand up, Jonathan.

Got you.

Meet the Eat The Rich Killer.

They're all on a lot of drugs
after pulling an all-nighter.

This could go in a number of ways
that aren't great for me.

Come off it, Roald.

- Why do you have a gun in the house?
- I'm serious.

The bastard killed Gemma.

I found him in the game larder
with her body.

Where's Phoebe?

She's fine.

She and Kate already know.

They're sending the staff home
and mustering security.

Which you don't want.
You're taking matters into your hands

because you've been Roald this whole time.

That's great. Let's get them in here.

- They can vouch for me.
- Think about it.

He shows up and our friends start dying.

Consider this.

Jonathan saves Kate from a mugging.

He ingratiates himself to Malcolm,
who invites him into our circle,

gets drunk,

Malcolm takes him home,

and the minute
Jonathan's alone with him...

he murders our dear friend in cold blood.

I knew it.

- Fucking knew it.
- I was passed out!

I couldn't have.

What about you, Roald?

He hated Malcolm.

Jonathan, when you stabbed Malcolm,

did he deflate like a hot-air balloon?

Setting aside Blessing's pathological
inability to take anything seriously,

I'm not finished.

You'll be interested in this one, Sophie.

After Simon's show,
all of us were at the party.

Except for who?

Stop it, Roald.

I've heard enough.

You're one of them, so of course
they're believing you over me.

Sophie, I left the gallery
hours before with Kate.

Roald was actually there.

And Gemma?

Think about what she said at dinner.

She'd put it all together.
The murders started when he came.

Kate? Sorry to interrupt.

Just hiding out a moment.

Jonathan, you absolute perv.
What are you doing here?

This is ridiculous.
Why would I wanna kill them?

Because you're obsessed with Kate.

Un-fucking-believable.
Framing me with your own motive.

I... Roald, would you care
to show the room your camera?

All of your creepy little photos of Kate?

I'm an artist.

Rather desperate to conflate that
with a dirty stalker like yourself.

Oh.

Care to see what I found in his pockets?

- Is that Kate's?
- Come on, man...

Oh, don't "man" me.

You fuck. You're fake.

Yeah, you're a fake,
and you're calculated, and you're nosy,

and you sabotaged
my relationship with Phoebe.

Remember what Connie said earlier
about the good old days? Con?

Christ. Doesn't matter.

We may not be judge, jury
and executioner anymore,

but my uncle is a judge.

Supreme Court Justice, in fact,

and he loves me very much.

If I happen to end the life of the man
that's been killing all my dear friends,

- he'll make sure I get away.
- Listen to me. This is the truth.

Kate can corroborate.

She found Gemma's body

in her room and she was afraid
that anyone might think it was her.

So she asked me

to help move it.

This is insane.

- Insane.
- I swear to you!

- Roald has this wrong. Everything...
- Enough!

By the power vested in me
by God and Empire,

I hereby sentence you, Jonathan Moore,

to death.

You're not serious.

Don't shoot him
in the drawing room, Roald.

No.

No, of course not.

We always give the foxes
a chance in the hunt.

Don't we?

Would you like a head start, monsieur?

Please be reasonable about this

for just a second, Adam.

- At least let Phoebe vouch for...
- Get her name out of your mouth.

You murderer!

Oh!

Oh, no.

Sit tight.

I'm going peasant hunting.

How did I get here, hunted in
the countryside by a coked-up aristocrat?

The Crown directed by Guy Ritchie.
Someone wake me up.

Here I come, Jonathan!

Well, as I explained,
we've all had a long, sleepless night

and we're all a bit on edge. Adam?

Did you two not notice him on the floor?

He's your boyfriend,
not our responsibility.

Adam? Adam, wake up, darling.

- Is he drunk or...?
- Sure. Annihilated.

But also Jonathan attacked him.

- Jonathan? Why would Jonathan attack him?
- Because he's the Eat The Rich Killer.

Roald found him
with Gemma's body or something.

- Where are they now?
- The woods.

Roald's took a gun to kill him.

Did any part of you think
that maybe you should step in?

No.

I say, off with his fucking head.

Hear, hear.

Go and find Roald
before someone gets hurt.

Our job is to protect you.

So you're going to cower in here with me
while Roald shoots people outside?

Oh, Jonathan!

Did you know English foxhounds rely solely
on their sense of smell during a hunt?

I reckon I might have been
a hound in a past life

'cause I can smell you now.

That same peasant stench
I got a whiff of when we first met.

Surely it's been frustrating
being in our company.

A constant reminder of what you are.

But killing us?

Now that is low-class.

Scrappy son of a bitch.

Rhys.

Hello, Joe.

The fuck?

- Where the hell...?
- Must be wondering where you are.

The secret bowels of Hampsbridge House.

There's no point shouting,
it's quite soundproof.

Bit Man in the Iron Mask, isn't it?

See,

if you research the Borehall-Blaxworths,

you'll find family members
who disappeared, children who...

Well, they didn't fit the decor,
so to speak.

It's quite possible
Lady Phoebe doesn't even know it exists.

It's you.

- It's been you.
- Apologies about the chains.

I just... I couldn't take any chances.

It's very hard to predict
your moods sometimes.

I missed it.

Man of the people on TV.

To be that bold,
you have to be brilliant and know it.

I appreciate that.

- Why?
- I don't mind getting into all of it.

I'd have questions too.
It's just... I, honestly... I...

I wasn't prepared
for this type of face-to-face yet.

But then you got yourself into a bind,
and it became clear that

if I didn't intervene,
you were gonna get yourself killed.

- So you're saving me?
- You're welcome. My pleasure.

Is your head clear now?

You ready for our plan, Joe?

Roald has so many chemicals in his body,

it's a miracle
he wasn't already blacked out.

He's well asleep.

And he's our plan, mate.

We're gonna pin all the murders on him.

- Pin?
- Don't be coy.

I've studied you, Joe.

The way you've been able
to escape scrutiny...

Truly, you've been inspiring me so much
along the way in my little project.

Project?

And in light of what's worked
so well for you,

it seems the best option
that doesn't rely on luck...

involves framing a dead person
so they can't protest their innocence.

So you want...?

You want me...?

To kill Roald, yes.

And I'll take care of the other touches
that will make the story sing.

I've got the note written.

No one will be surprised
Roald is a killer.

He's a neofascist with a knife collection.

I mean, that camera,
all up-skirts of Kate.

- I've seen it.
- It's obsessive, isn't it?

Think of the positive.

One less spoiled,
violent little shit on this Earth.

You really are
the Eat The Rich Killer. You hate them.

One less person on your back.

One less romantic rival.

You have me all wrong,
but the only path I see out of this

is to make you believe I'm in.

Thank you.

For intervening.

It was looking hairy and you're right.

I've been so eager to meet you.

I'm glad we're finally talking.

So how are we gonna do this?

Well, that's up to you.

Strangle him, bash him over the head,
smother him.

- How's that gonna look like a suicide?
- I'll handle that part too.

Oh, hey, whoa!

Wait, are...? I'm sorry.
Are you not gonna let me out?

I'm not stupid.

Be done by the time I get back.

Rhys Montrose.

A good man in a cruel world.

Disappointed doesn't even begin
to describe it.

Too high for an unfashionable child
to escape

or for a grown man in chains.

Truth is, he deserves to die,
but that's what you want me to do.

You fucked with me over and over.

I'm not your puppet.

I have to escape a dungeon
to save this asshole

before the psycho gets back.

Easy.

I'm going out there.

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

What if they're all dead?

You're just walking out
into the arms of the killer.

With the utmost respect,
Sophie, piss the fuck off.

Wow.

It's got to be centuries old, right?

Fucking excellent craftsmanship.

- I just thought it could be easier if I...
- Got free?

Killing a man while chained to a pillar

is an unreasonable ask, Rhys.

I just need my hands free.

I can see it in your face.

I should've known
when you texted me about killing Vic.

Exhilarating.

And you were coming on far too strong.

You lied...

- to me.
- Hang on.

You're in denial about yourself.

- Roald didn't do anything.
- He's done plenty! They all have!

- There's another way.
- My way is the only way and you know it.

It's a shame.

You're not the man I hoped you were.

I did have a Plan A...

before I knew who you were.

- To frame you for Malcolm's murder.
- Rhys.

I suppose I could go back.

I don't want to,
but sometimes things just don't work out

with the person the way you dream.

If you're clever enough
to get yourself free,

I'll see you back in London
and we can revisit this.

Otherwise, goodbye, Joe.

Rhys! Rhys!

Shh. You're okay. You're okay.

What happened?

It doesn't matter.

All that matters is that you're all right.

I love you, Phoebe.

So much.

I love you.

I don't want to lose you ever.

Does anyone else smell smoke?

Oh, fuck.

Wake Connie. Wake everyone.

- Wake up!
- We need to get out now.

Where are we going?

If I'm clever enough to get out.

You left me to die in a fire
like some fucking Twitter troll.

What have you done to me?

- How did we get in here?
- Now is not the time for questions, Roald!

Thank God. Now me.

Jonathan!

Jonathan, don't leave me.

Fuck you, Roald.
An hour ago, he was hunting me.

Please.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Jonathan.
Wait, I'm sorry. I wasn't gonna...

Hold still.

After everything, I'm not letting
you kill me with this smarmy prick.

- Help! Help! In here!
- Help! Help!

Help!

Grab on, you idiots.

Fucking hell, am I glad to see you.

You look like hell.

Things took a turn since I saw you last.

Come on. Get away from the house.

I thought this nightmare would be
over by the time I returned to London,

but I suppose
I should be grateful to be alive.

New details have emerged

regarding this past week's
shocking events.

The name of the so-called
Eat The Rich Killer's latest victim,

Gemma Apollonia Graham-Greene...

Barely got a half-assed apology
from the group.

There's not much to say
after you extrajudicially sentenced

an innocent man to death.

At least they know I'm innocent.

Gemma's body burned, along with the rest
of Hampsbridge House's fucked-up history.

Police recovered just enough
to identify her.

But I haven't heard a peep from you
since you said:

"See you back in London."

Where do we go from here?

As you said, the last
few days have gripped the nation,

and now we have learned
the name of the victim

of the latest grisly crime...

Hey.

Since your things burnt up,
I figured you could use some new clothes.

They're just things
Malcolm never even took the tag off of.

Whatever fits.

A bit eerie, but hey...

That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you.

Look, I was thinking. I've...

I've never had someone go to
such great lengths to retrieve a bracelet.

I owe you a pint or ten.

Walk with me to the pub?

Is Kate Galvin trying to ask me out?

If you're not busy, I...

I wouldn't hate the company.

But this is more than a beer.

It's a door we both wanna walk through
and I can't.

She knows too much about me as it is.

It's dangerous for her to know anymore.

I wish I could.

Seriously? It's...

It's a pint, Jonathan.

I think we both know it's not.

And would that be so heinous?

I don't wanna hurt you.

You don't want to know the real me.

Your past doesn't scare me.

It can't be worse than mine.

Jonathan, I know what I'm like.

I don't let people in.
It simply isn't worth it.

Except when it is.

I can't.

I'm sorry.

Captain fucking America.

I've never met anyone like Kate Galvin.

In another world, another life,

I would run after her,
risk everything for her.

But I can't because I'm already
in a relationship with you, Rhys.

Many of the victims were
old friends of mine,

people that I met in this classroom.

It's a tragedy.

This fascination
with the Eat The Rich Killer

is a manifestation
of a larger populist anger

of people who are sick and tired.

You stand with a foot
in both worlds,

the working class and the aristocracy,

and none of them suspect that you're
a monster hiding in plain sight.

My first day here at Oxford,
I sat in this very seat,

and I thought a kid from a council estate
should never have been here.

But I realize now, that unique experience
is what made me equipped

to understand
what the great people of this city need.

Change brought on
by someone who truly sees them.

I plan to take matters into my own hands.

By killing off the rich, one by one?

And so it is with great pride,
but with greater humility,

that I, Rhys Montrose,
officially announce my candidacy

for the mayor of London.

- You're actually doing this.
- I have big plans for this city.

And if you give me your vote,

I promise
you won't be sick and tired anymore.

Whatever your big plans are,
I need to stop you

before you can hurt another soul
and drag mine down with you.

I know who you really are now, Rhys.

And I'm coming for you.