All language subtitles for NCIS.Los.Angeles.S02E16.Empty.Quiver.720p.WEB-DL.x264.310MB-Pahe.in

Outran the cartel.
That's what I'm talking about.

Thought I was done there
for a minute, huh?

California State Taxi Service
ain't no joke.

Protect, serve and get paid, huh?

Better all be in there.

Of course it's there.

Are you guys
looking for another gig, huh?

Police escort,
it's my new way to floss, man.

What do you thi...? Unh!

You're a grand short.

Make this right, or I'll skin those tattoos
off and hang them on the wall.

Ouch.

Last punch I took was
on the playground in second grade.

And what was the name
of this bully?

Stephanie Petersmark.

Hm.

- Girls punch boys they like.
- I didn't.

"I'll skin those tattoos off you
and hang them on my wall."

You must not recognize
Scarface level game when you hear it.

Ever realize how much easier
the bad guys have it than we do?

All the time. No rules, no loyalty.

No Hetty.

Okay, Mr. Yakuza is tagged
and ready for arrest at a later date.

A mere guppy in the sea of crime
compared to the sharks we're after.

So if you weren't a boy puncher,
what was your strategy?

I ignored them.

Paul, are you here?

Yo, Paul, we got your cut
of the Yakuza deal.

Paul.

Paul.

Hang in there, buddy. Hang in there.

Paul...

- Who did this?
- I turned down a new job.

Going too far this time.

You stop them.

Stop who?

- Stop who, Paul?
- Paul.

He's gone.

Is that an actual red alert?

I mean, are there battle stations now
that need to be manned?

It's a text message.

It's a text message.

What was that look for?

You just... You're very, um...

- Very what?
- You're very tightly wound.

- That's not true.
- It's true.

Your personal electronics
are filled with intensity.

- Something on your mind, Deeks?
- No.

- Is there?
- No.

- Didn't think so.
- You always need to drive.

You set your clocks 15 minutes fast.

You set my clocks 15 minutes fast.
Everything is a competition.

You have to have separate checks
at Starbucks.

You make fun of guys
that order non-fat lattes.

Do you have any idea how exhausting
it is being your partner?

Do you have any idea
how exhausting it is

to hear you ramble on about the
2012 apocalypse earlier this morning?

Not the apocalypse, okay?
It's the galactic realignment.

Geomagnetic reversal.

Timewave Zero, all right?
The Nibiru Collision.

You may know it as baktun 13.

I think you mean, "baktun" 13.

"Baktun"? Really? "Baktun"?
Your Mayan accent is terrible.

That's right.
You know why I know that?

Because astronomers were talking
about it last night at the bar.

Astronomers were at the bar
that you go to?

Mm-hm.

That sells flavored condoms
at the vending machine?

Why is that so hard for you
to believe?

Okay, the bartender
changed it to the Discovery Channel

after the Lakers game,
but it felt very real to me.

Good morning.

Okay, Hetty, glad you showed up.

It's very difficult to take anything
that guy says seriously.

Says the most serious person
I've ever met in my entire life.

Okay, Deeks is a nice guy.

And Kensi is a nice girl, all right?
It's not her.

- It's not him.
- It's...

It's us.

Well, I don't believe it's a problem.

I'm hearing two people who are
beginning to sound like partners.

Hi. Uh, Callen and Sam are waiting
for you guys in the Ops Center.

And it's pronounced "baktun" 13.

Of course it is.

So nice of you to join us.

Sorry, got held up. Deeks thinks
the world's gonna end in 2012.

Let me guess. Jenkins' theory
on Sagittarius A black hole?

As a matter of fact, yes.

- He's mocking you.
- He's not mo...

An MP from Camp Pendleton

suspected Marines of working
on something with some dirty cops.

It's a CHP crew.

They take bribes from criminals
for armed escorts and smuggling.

They call themselves
the California Gold Taxi Service.

L.A.P.D.
Calls them an urban legend.

L.A.P.D. Is wrong. They're real.

Six months ago, we opened
an undercover investigation.

Sam and I infiltrated the group
going in as corrupt cops.

We got inside, but we still have not
been able to make a link

between them and Pendleton.

Then the ringleader
turned up dead this morning.

His name's Paul Beane.

He left the CHP after surviving
a motorcycle accident while on duty.

Left him paralyzed
from the waist down.

He has a wife,
but they maintain separate residences.

She's not considered a suspect.

Beane turned down a job.

Somebody wanted to make sure
he didn't talk.

Tight grouping. Low caliber.
No exit wounds. Pros.

He's a retired cop.

He must've had somebody
in the field, a point man.

Try point woman.

Officer Jennifer Grear.

She was Beane's partner
until his accident.

He'd find the jobs.

She'd pass on the orders to
the California Gold Taxi Service cops.

They might have had a falling-out.

If Grear didn't shoot Beane,
she might know who did.

So this op just shifted gears.
Something is about to go down.

It may or may not involve Marines
at Pendleton,

but we need to figure out
what it is and fast.

Grear's shift is coming up, so Sam
and I are gonna hit CHP headquarters.

- You two search her house.
- Done.

Got it.

You're giving me a look.

Us riding bikes means
we don't get to talk like we normally do.

Whereas, normally,
we ride in your car

and spend the whole time
talking about nothing?

You calling our banter nothing?

Well, not nothing, but wouldn't say
that it qualifies as something.

Banter is the crux
of our partnership, G.

Without it, we'd be two guys with guns
drifting from one case to the next.

We are guys with guns
drifting from one case to the next.

- Some seek a higher meaning.
- Others play the hand they're dealt.

When did the glass
become half-empty?

Was it ever half-full?

- That's better.
- Mm-hm.

But I still want my car back,
and these boots are killing me.

- Exley, Powell.
- Hey, did you see Grear inside?

Never clocked in. Guess who's stuck
pulling a double shift.

Tell her I'm only accepting apologies
in the form of bourbon and cigars.

Am I really the most serious person
you've ever met?

It's a tie between you
and this nun back at school

who used to whack my hand
with a ruler.

All right, well, I'll have you know
that I can be a very funny individual.

- According to whom?
- People.

- Anyone I know?
- Nell.

- I'm sorry, what?
- Nell thinks I'm hilarious.

Okay.

It's forced entry.

One, two, three.

- Clear.
- Clear.

This looks like a shootout
at the O.K. Corral.

Your instincts telling you anything?

Multiple shooters. Blood trail.

Come here. Come this way.

Someone got hit about here.

And then they ran.

Impossible to say
how far they made it.

If they made it.

So was it Grear?

Or somebody else?

We analyzed spending patterns for
both Paul Beane and Jennifer Grear

over the past 24 hours.

And tried to establish a time line.

Turns out Beane frequented a club
in Hollywood called Bare Elegance.

Credit-card charges show
he was there last night.

Bare Elegance.
Must be a strip club.

Bikini bar. Big difference.

What do we know about Grear?

She's got four credit cards
all maxed out

and two bank accounts
in overdraft status.

Officer Grear's mother
is suffering from Alzheimer's.

Put her in a nursing home last year.
Wiped out her savings.

No one's seen Grear
since Paul Beane's murder.

Well, she's either in hiding
or she's dead.

Okay, Kensi and I volunteer to go
check out the bikini bar in Hollywood.

Where did Grear's mother live
before the nursing home?

House in Van Nuys.

Well, if she's tapped out,
it's probably still on the market.

- Correct.
- I'll drive, you banter.

Are you aware of the difference
between bikini bars and strip clubs?

Yeah, of course. There's...

No.

Is there...? Is there a difference? I...

So let me get this straight.

Strip club, no clothes, no booze.
Bikini bar, clothes, booze.

- Correct.
- Now, which do you prefer?

- They both possess unique charms.
- No, no. The apocalypse is tomorrow.

You got one last night.

That's a dilemma worthy
of King Solomon.

Bikini bar. Yeah.

Bikini bar's definitely
my pre-apocalyptic choice.

Ha-ha-ha. I don't know whether that
makes me respect you more or less.

First date?

Oh, hi. Well, a girl can only do dinner
and a movie so many times.

Yeah. She's cute,
but her sense of humor needs work.

You have no idea.

So a buddy of mine,
he's always talking about this place.

Paul Beane. Yeah? You know him?

Yeah, he's an ex-cop
in a wheelchair.

We get CHP guys in here all the time.
Half-off drinks if you show your badge.

He kept trying to get us
to come meet him last night.

- Do you remember who he was with?
- Ask him yourself.

I wish that I could.

Some guy came in here
looking for him, and they got into it.

- We tossed the other dude out.
- What does he look like?

Forties, gold watch,
kind of a frat-boy look with a bully vibe.

We're gonna need access
to these cameras.

Oh, those don't work.

I just put those in for show.
Deterrence.

What were Beane
and this other guy arguing about?

Is Paul okay?

He was found dead this morning.

Oh, man.

You know, I...

I didn't hear any details.

Just one thing.
The overgrown frat boy told Paul

that this was his last chance,
and if he said no, that he'd kill him.

Thanks, Kensi.

Last night,
Paul Beane's life was threatened.

Bar manager described him
as an overgrown frat boy.

- He was wearing a gold watch.
- Grear still ran, though.

She pulled the trigger or she's hiding
from the people who did.

Could be here at her mom's house.

Nothing.

All right. I'll check...

Pull the trigger, Exley.
Isn't that what they're paying you for?

Easy.

Easy, Grear. Easy. Struggling's only
gonna make it hurt worse.

Easy.

Don't move.

- You're arresting me?
- It's good to see you again, Grear.

Turn around.

You're not really CHP.

Always thought
the boots looked funny on you.

Yeah.

Whoever killed Paul Beane
came after you next.

You were wounded,
but you managed to escape.

I'm not answering questions
until I see a lawyer.

We should kick you out on the street.
Give them a chance to finish the job.

Or work with us,
figure out who killed Paul.

- What makes you think I care?
- You were partners.

That doesn't mean anything.

Just a man and a woman with guns
drifting from case to case.

That it?

Most partners
seek a higher meaning.

It helps them get through
each day together.

I don't know who killed Paul.

And I don't know
who came after me.

- You get a look at the shooters?
- It happened fast.

They wore hockey masks.
Black ones.

Why would they want you dead?

Paul turned down a job.

Payoff was too big.
It made him nervous.

He said it involved military hardware.
Something serious.

So I told the rest of the guys
to walk away from it.

Military hardware's gotta be
the connection to Camp Pendleton.

Maybe that's where they started
in the first place.

How long were you two
seeing each other?

How did you know?

Wedding ring.

Sometimes Paul wore it,
sometimes he didn't.

I figured he was seeing someone
who wasn't his wife.

Paul's marriage was falling apart.

None of the guys I dated got what I did
for a living like he did.

- Anyone else know?
- No.

After the accident, it changed him.

He went to this dark place.

He used his connections to start
the California Gold Taxi Service.

And you helped him.

I couldn't sell the house.

My mom's medical bills
were adding up, and...

I wanna help you.

Call your California Gold crew,
put out the word.

You got scared into taking the job.

Officers Exley and Powell
are gonna handle it.

How are you boys tonight?

As far as I'm concerned,
any night off-duty is a good night.

Half-off drinks.

But not tips.

He's buying.

You bummed
you're stuck here with me?

No, it's for the best.

I can't go undercover in places
like this anymore.

All the dancers know and love me.

Must be your dashing personality.

Well, it's not my money.

- Right.
- I have mystique.

By "mystique," I don't mean
the brunette dancer inside the bar,

real name Kimberly.

Yay, congratulations. A go-go dancer
told you her real name.

Patience, Kensi.

And by "patience,"
I don't mean the redhead

that goes on at 10:00 tonight,
real name Jessica.

Whoa.

- What?
- That might be our guy right there,

chatting up the bouncer.
Frat-boy looks.

Flashy gold watch.

Sam, Callen,
I think we got eyes on our man.

He's on his way in.

Got him, Deeks.

He's got an entourage.

I'm Steve Brenner.

- Exley.
- Powell.

California Gold Taxi Service
speaks very highly of you two.

Never heard of it.

Heard you were asking
about Jennifer Grear

at the CHP motor pool earlier today.

Her old partner
was murdered this morning.

- Paul Beane.
- Never heard of him.

Sounds like we're running out of things
to talk about.

Maybe you should leave
before things get awkward.

We're in a bikini bar.

No such thing as awkward.

Hear me out.

You got ten seconds.

Nine, eight, seven, six...

I need a couple of CHP cops
to pull off a job.

- Word is you two don't scare easily.
- What's the pay?

Fifty grand. Each.

What do we gotta do?

Black Range Rover driving
to Los Angeles from Vegas tomorrow.

Fire up some flares.
Create a roadblock. Pull the driver out.

Give him a ticket.
Take him in for resisting arrest.

Once he's locked up, you get paid.

- What's his name?
- Not important.

You want us to arrest the right guy,
we're gonna need a name.

Phil Crombie. Ex-con.

Business rival of mine.

I need him off the street
so I can complete a deal.

What if we say no?

Ask Paul Beane and Jennifer Grear
how that worked out for them.

We're in.

Be in touch, gentlemen.

He didn't mention
military hardware or Pendleton.

What's this really about?

Sounds like we're about to find out.

Took these at the club
last night. Recognize them?

- None of these guys are CHP.
- They the ones that came after you?

They wore hockey masks.
Could be them.

Could be someone else.

You regret getting involved now?

The State's running out of money.
CHP's broke.

You got good cops being forced
into early retirement.

There's no such thing
as overtime anymore.

- We didn't think it would come to this.
- But it did.

Look, I'm not proud
of the California Gold Taxi Service,

but guys were losing their houses.

Yeah.

I regret it.

I think Paul regretted it too.

Tell us more about the guys
that tried to kill you.

They're good. Trained.

- Like cops?
- Like military.

So "Steve Brenner" is an alias.
His real name is Justin Marchetti.

Did nine years in prison
for running a Ponzi scheme.

Some people thought
he was Wall Street's savant

until $20 million
of his clients' money disappeared.

Mostly retirement funds
and life savings.

His buddies are all
former French military.

- GIGN.
- It's an elite counter-terrorist unit.

Their services don't come cheap.

What do we have on Phil Crombie,
the guy Marchetti wants us to stop?

He did a dime in Folsom
for drug trafficking.

Released last year.

Currently employed by a restaurant
in Santa Monica.

What, he graduated from narcotics
to military hardware?

It's gotta be Marchetti.

Ready to start the trace.

Peter Exley.

The Range Rover
will be passing Marker 447

on Route 138 at exactly 4 p.m.

- You sure Crombie's onboard?
- He's driving. Don't screw it up.

No. He's using an encrypted satphone.
Not even close.

We need to figure out if we're dealing
with narcotics or military hardware.

Go back to Paul's garage,
see if anything turns up.

- We're on it.
- I queried officials at Camp Pendleton

and numerous agencies.

There is no other operation in play
at this time.

Mr. Callen, Mr. Hanna.

We still don't know
what we're getting ourselves into here.

Please be careful.

Hopefully this guy Crombie
can fill in some of the blanks.

Black Range Rover. Here we go.

License and registration.

Got off the phone
with Phil Crombie's boss.

He showed up at the restaurant.

Callen, Sam, Crombie is not the one
in that Range Rover.

- Sam.
- What's the problem, officer?

Nothing personal.

They're wearing body armor.

- You okay?
- Vest took the hit.

They're Marchetti's guys.

- Don't you say it.
- You're welcome.

Go, go, go!

Let's go, let's go!

- Move it!
- Go!

ID card from
the Department of Energy.

Shooters used plastic explosives
to level your bikes.

Probably think the blast
finished you guys off.

- Where's the trailer?
- Tracked it with satellite imagery.

Range Rover and trailer
were dumped a half-mile away.

Found three more bodies.

Department of Energy security detail
riding in back with the cargo.

Department of Energy?

Took all of ten minutes
for these guys to become ghosts.

Found these scattered on the floor
of the Range Rover they left behind.

Some kind of fruit.

Candy-coated figs
from the Middle East.

Doesn't track. Marchetti's guys
are French. They're not Arab.

Counter-terrorist operatives
don't become Jihadists overnight.

Hey. Uh, so Beane's garage
was a dead end.

- You guys okay?
- Yeah.

- Could you repeat that?
- Empty Quiver.

Empty Quiver.

- That's correct.
- Indeed.

Empty Quiver,
ladies and gentlemen.

- What does "Empty Quiver" mean?
- "Empty Quiver" is a Pentagon term.

It refers to the loss or theft
of a functioning nuclear weapon.

They stole a nuke?

What, DOE just decided
to take it on a road trip?

They ship trailers like this across
the highways every day.

The idea is to be low profile.

They're unmarked and manned
by former Special Forces operators.

No one's been any the wiser
until today.

The trailer contains a warhead
en route to refurbishment.

We were not informed

because of the sensitive nature
of the cargo.

- What's the yield?
- A hundred kilotons.

Five times the power
of the one that leveled Hiroshima.

And how is the Department of Energy
handling this?

Discretely.

If the media discovered,
it would be panic.

Nuclear Emergency Support Teams
have been deployed

to scour the area
for its radioactive signature.

If these guys wanted to set off a nuke,
why haven't they done it?

You need a nuclear physicist to arm it
and trigger the detonation.

Mr. Callen, Mr. Hanna, a word.

The blame game has begun.

High-level officials interested
in covering their own asses.

They're demanding to know
why the two NCIS agents on the scene

weren't able to prevent the incident.

The word "investigation"
has already been bandied about.

It's pretty meaningless
given what's at stake.

And politicking isn't our job.

Oh, no, Mr. Hanna, it's mine.

- You don't have to protect us.
- Oh, yes, I do.

And I've feared for years
that a day would come

when I wouldn't be able to.
I hope this isn't it.

There is only one solution:

Recover the warhead
before it can be used.

We just received a video.

White House received this
five minutes ago.

They're keeping it under wraps.
Don't wanna create panic.

There's the warhead.

Says "Pan-Islamic Brotherhood"
in Arabic.

- Never heard of them.
- Neither have I.

I'm Dr. Delia Richards.

I'm a nuclear physicist.

These men have a nuclear warhead
in their possession.

They're forcing me to arm it.

"Judgment Day has arrived.

In three hours, the American people

will feel the fear of not knowing
who will die or when."

Three hours from now is 6:30 a.m.

Video doesn't specify a target.

- Nell. Dr. Delia Richards?
- Mm-hm.

Okay.

Employed by Golden State Tech.

Formerly employed
by Trecdel Electronics.

The weapons manufacturer.

Worked in R&D
at their Maryland plant.

Cutting-edge tech.

She was originally recruited by the
Department of Energy out of school,

but went private sector instead.

Specialises in applied physics,
not theoretical. Which means...

- She can arm the warhead.
- Must be why they chose her.

Since when do Wall Street guys
start working with Wahhabi Muslims?

Marchetti's guys don't match
the profile for martyrs.

Something's off.

Tell Golden State Tech security

we're gonna need full access
to Dr. Richards' office.

I checked
it out. Nothing on NEST sensors.

Signs of struggle.

- I'll keep looking.
- Thanks, Eric.

NEST teams are drawing a blank.

A nuke signature
has to be more radioactive

than everything around it
or detection equipment can't find it.

L.A.'s filled with things
that would throw sensors off:

Buildings, vehicles, even people.

So, what's the best way to transport
a nuke without getting caught?

Bananas.

Lots of bananas.

Bananas are high in potassium.
Potassium is radioactive.

If I was hiding a nuke,
I'd hide it in a truckload full of them.

Fooling the sensor
by creating a false positive.

- One look inside, they'll wave it along.
- Sam.

Two radiuses.

The first one measures a blast
originating in downtown L.A.

The second one measures the effects
of a nuclear fallout.

- We need to tell Hetty.
- No.

- Not yet.
- What?

Hetty will have to inform
the Pentagon.

They'll start to evacuate the city.

What if that's
exactly what Marchetti wants?

Guys who are capable of pulling off
a hijacking operation like that

don't accidentally forget their maps.

Yeah, classic misdirection.

Okay, so if we're right,
the last thing we have to worry about

is an attack in Los Angeles
in two hours and 11 minutes.

What if we're wrong?

Delia Richards?
I don't know that name.

I've seen her.

At a bar.

A month ago,
she wanted to meet to talk about

a potential
California Gold Taxi Service job.

I drove Paul to meet her.
Waited in the car outside.

- You sure it was her?
- Paul and I were sleeping together.

He meets up with a woman
that looks like this, I take notice.

- He say what the job was about?
- No.

But whatever it was, it shook him up.
He wouldn't give me any details.

He said that the woman
gave him stock tips.

Told him to sell everything in his
portfolio and put it in gold and silver.

We dug into
Delia Richards' finances.

Over the past five years,
she made a small fortune

in the stock market as a day trader.

Her equities were handled
by an investment firm

whose address is a P.O. Box
in the Cayman Islands.

Now, it's rented by a woman

who used to work
for Justin Marchetti's old hedge fund.

What's the connection
between a day-trading physicist,

an ex-con money manager,
and a stolen nuke?

You found a map of Los Angeles
with nuclear-blast radiuses marked off,

and you kept it from me?

I made a judgment call. If we told you,
you would've been bound to report it

- to the Pentagon.
- I'm the one who decides

whether or not we fulfill
these obligations, Mr. Callen.

I don't need your protection.

- I need your trust.
- And I need your help.

- Marchetti is trying to play us.
- To what end?

That's exactly what we were
just about to ask you.

Video said something's
gonna happen at 6:30 a.m.

That's one hour from now.

- What happens at that time in L. A?
- Start of rush hour.

A better question may be,
what happens on the East Coast,

where it'll be 9:30 a. M?

The New York Stock Exchange
opens for trading.

Terrorist attacks cause panic.

In times of panic,
people sell off their stocks.

The market plummets.
What happened on 9/11?

Everyone dumped
their airline stocks.

But a small group of people
sold their airline shares short

the day before and made a fortune.

Marchetti's got a terrorist attack
at his fingertips.

He doesn't even have
to detonate the nuke.

The threat alone would be enough
to crash the market.

If the public even thinks
Jihadists stole that warhead,

it'll cause mass hysteria.

- Well, the video hasn't gone wide yet.
- And the man isn't a Jihadist.

He's sitting on inside information
that could make him billions.

All he has to do
is release that video,

sit back and watch the market
do his bidding.

It would be like the real-estate crash
all over again.

Except it will be every business,
all on the same day at the same time.

Yes, Eric?

We found what we
were looking for on Marchetti.

- You guys need to look at this.
- Bingo.

Dug up all real-estate holdings
on Steve Brenner,

a.k.a. Justin Marchetti.

Last month, he acquired a factory
called Festive Ceramics.

They produce dishes and plates.

Paint used on ceramics
contains high amounts of uranium,

harmless but highly radioactive.

And any factory using it registers

off the charts in the eyes
of the detection equipment.

Marchetti created a false positive.

The perfect smokescreen
to hide the nuke.

There's not much time until
the New York Stock Exchange opens.

We need to move
on that factory now.

Shooters that hijacked that trailer
will be there.

Anything we should know
about them?

They're not the type to stop
when you yell, "Freeze!"

Mr. Callen.

Lethal action has been authorized.

Sentries are down.

Very personal.

You're welcome.

Sam, someone just
accessed the video from this laptop.

It could have been uploaded.

I've got the mirroring app up
and running.

What are you seeing, Eric?

Video footage
hasn't been streamed anywhere yet,

but they uploaded a copy
to a flash drive.

Kensi, take them!

- The driver and passenger are down.
- Seven down, one man left.

In there. Using the nuke for cover.

Don't miss.

Hetty, Empty Quiver is secure.

- Need to stop this video, Eric.
- Video's already in the cloud.

The auto-run script executable
is about to go live.

- I'm almost there.
- Eric?

Video has been disabled, guys.

What did you just do?

I used a VNC controller to piggyback
the upload with a Trojan

and corrupt the streaming data packets
by initiating a stack buffer overflow.

In English, Mr. Beale?

Oh, I broke the Internet.

- Help me!
- You okay?

- Mm-mm.
- Drop it.

Sorry, it ain't over yet.

Okay.

You know, you're gonna have trouble
shooting me with that safety on.

That's gonna leave a mark.
Get over there.

I got a question for you.

Is it true all Wall Street guys are born
losers and get rich to compensate?

- Well...
- No, that's rhetorical. You're a loser.

And you?

You looked a lot better on camera,
sweetheart.

Aw...

Oh, hey, guys.
What did Eric do with the video?

Shut down the Internet.

What? The whole Internet?

- Yeah.
- Even Twitter?

Whoa.

- What happens now?
- CHP has taken over the case.

It's not our call.

But they know you helped us.

Did you get him?
The guy who killed Paul?

We got him.

So turns out Marchetti
was paying off an Intelligence officer

at Camp Pendleton.
That's how he knew the route

the warhead was taking.

It makes sense.

Nell, is it true that you describe Kensi
as hilarious?

I'm sorry, what?

- You don't remember that time?
- Uh, what time?

The time that... Nell, come on. L...

The time.

Oh, right. That time. Of course.

It was funny be...
It was funny because...

I was just replaying it in my head,
and it was just...

Oh. Great.

In the future, I will, uh...
I will try to take things more seriously.

I... I will try and lighten up.

I'd like that.

I would like that too.

- Do me a favor, though?
- Yeah.

Don't ever laugh like that again.

It was terrifying.

Eh...