All language subtitles for An.Ordinary.Man.2017.1080p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H264-FGT

Subtitles by explosiveskull

I was always
inclined to be an ordinary man.

You're drowning them.
You know that?

By tomorrow,
beauty will become shite.

You should
give these away.

Where is your shame?

Eh? Veggie-killer.

Stand up.

Up.

- And a paper.
- Please.

A paper, and this
horribly drowned produce.

- You've gotta go.
- I'd like the paper, please.

Please, General, go quickly.

Take it. Please.

Go.

You thieving little shit!

Everyone needs a villain,

war criminal,
fugitive, most wanted.

Please, I have all labels.

You dropped
my fucking vegetables.

Please get down.

And how do you
propose I do that?

Do I look like a circus midget?

Jesus, would you?

We've discussed these
little walks, yeah?

Yeah, and now you see
why I take them.

We're far too compromised.

Then get me a real driver,
as I've asked for.

- General, I am a...
- You are a pilot, Miro.

You drive stick like a woman.
Where the hell's Gannich?

- Vacation with his family, sir.
- Now he could drive.

And no offense, but I'm a little
sick of your face at this point.

Yes, it's true,
that sod you suffocate me with,

matted hair like a dog's ass.

I tire of you.

I want to see other people.

By the way, I know where
you're headed.

I see where you're headed.

I've slept in nine beds
in six months,

and only one
in this direction.

And if they think
I'm spending one more night

in that hellhole Tanovich
calls home, guess again.

Those children are awful.

They're unhygienic,
they're undisciplined.

- You can tell everyone.
- We're moving again, General.

- What?
- We're on the move.

- Who's this, then?
- No one, sir.

You.

The owner is a friend.
He's found the space.

An apartment?

- Yeah.
- My own?

For six months,
possibly longer.

Thank God.

- He's happy to meet us.
- Give me the key.

- Sir...
- You're not dropping me off

at boarding school,
for Christ's sake.

Give me the key,
find it myself, thank you.

We'll provide you
with supplies.

- Supplies...
- You know, essentials.

And who will be
making these purchases?

There'll be no need
for you to...

Absolutely not.
You're a crap shopper, Miro.

Tell them to leave cash
at the door. Tell them.

Sir...

Yes?

- Mrs. Boscovich?
- Apparently not.

- No.
- No.

She was expecting you?

And that's why you let
yourself into my apartment?

And you are?

- Tanja.
- Tanja.

- The maid.
- Ah.

Well, it appears Mrs. Boscovich
has broken her lease,

unexpectedly,
without telling the maid.

Your bag, please.

And now your clothes.

I don't like surprises.

Please.

Turn around, please.

Slowly.

No tattoos at your age.
How dull.

Where are your passions?

Unless you've chosen to cover
them up for some reason.

If you'd be kind enough
to step into the shower

and rinse thoroughly.

No worries,
I won't be joining you.

How's the plumbing?

I trust you know
where the towels are.

How much does she pay you?

Good Mrs. Boscovich?

How much did she pay you?

Five hundred... an hour.

I'll pay you more.

What are your skills?
What were your chores?

Cleaning and washing.

Show me your hands.

How old are you?

Twenty-six.

Your parents put
these hands to work?

My parents are dead.

You come how often?

For Mrs. Boscovich.

- Once each week, Tuesdays.
- Oh, I'll need you more.

You have others...

others you see?

Yes.

No more.
You work for me now.

I'll need you full-time,
as you can see.

A man needs a maid.

I... thank you, sir...

General...

but I think I should go.

But that won't be
possible now, will it?

You do have my key,
after all, don't you?

So I am yours...

and you'll be mine.

My little secret.

Show me your skills.

Where do you start?

Kitchen, bath, bedroom?

Windows, the windows.

Windows, excellent.

Let's begin.

May I get dressed?

Your hand is shaking.

Do I make you nervous?

Well, you've completely
missed the corners.

I trust you'll return for
those when it suits you.

Hardly very efficient,
are you?

With three minutes a pane, at
this rate, you'll be here all...

I'm sorry, I'm not
used to being timed.

At 500 dinars an hour,
you damn well should be.

Took that poor woman for
all she's worth, didn't you?

- Didn't you?
- She had no complaints.

But whose fault's that, then?

She lacked leadership.

My men always take to constructive
criticism, and they shine.

So, what other skills, then,
besides fogging windows?

- You cook?
- Cook?

Yes, cook,
prepare meals, sustenance.

- No, I don't cook.
- At your age?

- I was never taught.
- Criminal.

- I trust you eat?
- Yes, I eat.

Good.

For me, you'll cook.

First, we shop.

I'm sorry,
do you need to pee?

I beg your pardon?

Slow down, you're nervous.

Shouldn't you be?

Because I'm walking in the open?
Join the chorus.

You've nothing to fear,
you see.

I'm not really here.

At this very moment, I'm hidden
in a mountain barracks,

I'm skiing
in northern Slovenia,

I'm sunning myself
on the Dalmatian Coast,

I'm tending sheep on
a Serbian mountaintop,

I'm toasting with Putin
in Kiev and in Moscow,

friend of a friend
swears he saw me.

I'm everywhere and nowhere.

I am myth.

Three times they've offered
me plastic surgery.

Three times, begged me to
change my face, this face.

Now, that would be a crime.

They know they'll never
catch me, all of them.

They're just guests
in our house.

This is our house.

And my friends who waste
their hours watching over me

like nervous hens,
they're not so trusting.

They're here now, you know.

Yugo, two blocks back,
no front plates?

Black Mini, ahead, at 2:00.

They must be dying.

How did he manage so quickly?

And such an attractive
young thing, eh?

Come, I'll show ya.

Run!

Ha!

I'm sorry,
that never gets old.

First lesson.

Royals, always,
and no fucking filters.

- You're still smoking?
- Oh, so you do know something of me.

How about that, then?

A heart that's too large.
The joke's on them.

Smoke? God, yes. Old Solovek, finest
officer in our military history.

Only cigarettes could kill that
man, nothing else. Get a paper.

Phew.

Please, for my son.

Of course.

Thank you.

This color, this shape.
For this we fight wars.

Gorgeous vegetable,
raped by the Turks,

boiling away every last
vestige of nature's goodness.

They slaughter their cuisine,
you know that?

Read.
Bottom third, on the right.

Don't think, read.

Um...

Read the words.

I'm damn well dyslexic, so
if you don't want to sit here

all night while I flail,
save us both some time, go on.

"As key members of the
European Union prepare together,

and international
pressure mounts..."

Ugh, this is reading?

Come on, with inflection,
give it some life.

"Government officials
today conceded that

the country's effort to join
the European Union had been

hampered by the failure
to capture and deliver

into custody General..."

Oh, can't they use a
different photo, please?

"Indicted for war crimes
and crimes against humanity

by a Hague tribunal in
connection with the massacre

of thousands of
fighting-age men and boys

in the closing days of
the war under his command.

Government officials
continue to reassure

the international community
that every effort

is being made to ascertain
the whereabouts

of the fugitive military leader
whom they insist

- must be well hidden."
- Ha!

Hello, hello!

Fucking cowards can't stand up
on their own two feet.

Look at me.
Look how well hidden.

As if they're not paying
for all this themselves.

"The United States
this week officially

raised its offer
to $10 million U.S.

for any parties assisting
in the location

and capture of the general."

They'll all be out now,
cockroaches.

"Widely reviled by
the international community,

though still considered a hero
by some of his own countrymen.

Government leaders,
while acknowledging

the country's deepening
economic isolation,

refuse to speculate
as to a date

when the general's capture
and arrest might be expected."

Yeah, let them check
their calendars.

That should take
a fucking year or so.

God forbid they should ever
have to make a decision.

What is this country of yours?

A thousand curtseys. Here's some
allowance, now go to your room.

Is that it?
After all of this?

You say nothing.

A generation of young people,
saying nothing.

All right, then you are
my silent witness.

Witness this:

I will never hide.

And I will never be taken.

Lesson two: we cook.

Go, maid.

The peasant's feast,

four centuries of
life and culture,

distilled into one dish.

My dying day,
I shall eat this meal,

taste my home,
and be done.

How will you ever make
a suitable bride?

What makes you assume
I'll do the cooking?

And how do you know
I'm not already married?

I've seen your hands.

I'll never wear a ring.

Not dressed like that,
you won't.

What's wrong with this?

Nothing that can't be fixed.

So this life of yours,
these 26 lengthy years,

the highlights, please.

First chapter:
you were born, of course.

Where?

Here.

City?

City girl, of course.

And your parents?

From where do they hail?

- Same.
- City folks as well.

Now, that's convenient.

And their families?

Surely your people
come from somewhere,

a village with
their name on it?

- I never knew my grandparents.
- Really?

And your parents, you say?

I told you.

Yes, yes, you did. Ah.

How did they perish?

Car accident.

Together?

How unfortunate.

And I must say, bit unusual.

- How so?
- Well, we're not the worst drivers here.

A crack-up here and there, after
the bars close, yes, of course.

But both of them,
just like that?

That's catastrophic.

Leaving you all alone.
At what age?

- Seventeen.
- Of course.

Old enough
to fend for yourself.

Independence.

And school, why aren't
you in school?

My parents died.

Money, yes, of course,
always money.

And so we witness
the birth of a maid.

And friends.

- No friends?
- No time.

Mrs. Boscovich, no doubt,
slave-driving bitch.

And boys.

There must be boys,
ripe specimen like yourself.

No boys, no friends, no family.
Tanja, my silent maid,

I'm afraid you are
as invisible as I am.

We're ghosts.

Lesson three.

Lesson four.

Five, please.

Very good.
Very good, maid.

Lesson six.
Six is the dog's bollocks.

Six is the sport of kings.

Six will show what
you're really made of,

your fire,
your quality of mercy.

Never met a military man
who didn't like the game.

Napoleon himself loved playing

simultaneous games
with his marshals.

And who do you think won,
and he was just a short fuck.

You are much taller
than Napoleon.

Come on, I even made
my enemies play,

and they respected me for it.

I know, you're thinking,
you're thinking, well, sure,

fuckers let you win,
otherwise you'd shoot them.

Not true, not true.

Play to win, yes,
but I respect my opponents,

even those blue-hat NATO fucks,
God love 'em.

So friend or foe,
you take me on.

- Take me on, damn it.
- I can't.

- What?
- I don't know how to play.

- Try.
- I can't.

Fight, damn it!

Worthless, worthless, you are.

Go!

If you won't fight, go.

What, are you deaf as well?
Go.

- What, you'd let me?
- Let you?

Are you a fucking hostage?

Haven't you read?
I don't take hostages.

Go, out of my sight!

But I expect you back, maid.

You're mine now.

Worthless, but mine.

Music from the Native Suns,

guests of tomorrow evening's

Dance of Traditions
at Baron's Hall.

Doors open at 7:00.

You really can't cook,
can you?

It's fucking dreadful.

Hm.

Good morning.

You'll need that.

So, which of us is
the most surprised?

What choice did I have?

You kidnapped Mrs. Boscovich.

And I assume
you pay in cash?

Last night...

You didn't ask
one question, not one.

I know a thousand journalists
would cut off

their right testicle just
for the chance, both, in fact.

Yet you...

So this is the state
of youth today,

complete disinterest?

Or is it fear?

Are you afraid of me?

- It's really none of my concern.
- My actions?

And yet, aren't you
the least bit curious?

Not in the slightest?

Is he, in fact, the devil?

It's none of my concern.

No questions.
No judgment.

I don't know
if I believe you.

You see, I...

I've no such luxury.

I'm old,
and I do have questions.

I want answers, maid.

Show me your life.

You've seen mine
in all its glory.

Your turn.

The life of a city girl.

Today, I am your pupil.

God, were we ever
so unappealing?

Which one were you,
where is Tanja in this mix?

Nowhere. I hid.

Empty classrooms, second floor,
mostly, until lunch was over.

- Hid?
- With a book.

Why?

What, you blind?
Look at them.

Hid, every day?

That's a lot of books.
You were smart.

Too smart.
Why do you think I hid?

And where was history made?

Where did we
kiss our first boy?

He kissed me,
over by the fountain.

Drawn out of hiding,
were we?

Mm, tactical error.
I was thirsty.

He never made
that mistake again.

What was his name?

Mr. Antonovich.

The librarian.

- Pigs.
- Yes, you are.

Surely other kisses
have followed.

We're not all
perverted librarians.

No?

You've never had a boyfriend,
have you, maid?

Define "boyfriend."

Someone you share a meal
with between fucking.

At 26...

Oh, we do have to get to the
bottom of this, don't we?

Where did you bleed,
the first time?

First floor.
My form room seat.

I wouldn't leave
that seat all morning.

- They had to carry me out.
- We weren't rejoicing?

Oh, Jesus,
the fantasies you men have.

Uh, God, no, it's a horror.

My daughter found me
in a bunker,

fifth hour of maneuvers.

This corporal comes
racing out to me

with a field phone,
four radio transfers.

They tracked me down,
I assume the war has started.

And there she is,
that voice.

"I couldn't find Mum."

My men got
very drunk that day.

They still don't know why.

My father made me
clean the seat and apologize.

Most men would. We're terrified
of the mysteries of young women,

absolute terror.

One day we're bathing
little girls, cheek-to-cheek,

and the next,
the door is locked for good.

I took her shopping
after that day,

to quell my fears.

Mine wouldn't be caught dead.

What a shame.

How else to pierce the veil,
learn your mysterious ways?

Show me home.

Your home.
Please, home is next.

Do you know how long
it's been since a young woman

invited me into her apartment?

I didn't invite you.

Tell me this is temporary.

It's not.

I've seen detention cells
with more character.

Well, you would know.

Turn around, please.
There's no door.

My God.

Would it kill you
to hang up a picture?

- Of what?
- Need we say more?

No wonder you don't
have company.

You'll cripple them.
May I fix this?

No, you may not.

For such a big reader, your library
is, how shall I say, nonexistent.

Books take up space.

Yes, and give away
our secrets.

Your mother
wouldn't approve.

Oh, my mother
never approved.

I'm suffocating.
I need a cigarette.

Take us away, maid.

Go on, maid.

Here you go.
Thank you.

Oh, shit.

Shit.

- Where did you go?
- Dressing stall in the back.

Collect what you find,
go straight to the cashier.

I've nothing smaller.

I may be invisible, but let's
not push our luck, shall we?

Go.

Your father would be so proud.

Indulge me.

Change, please.

Nothing that can't be fixed.

So now we do what with these?

Why, now we pierce the veil.

Men are invisible in the
presence of beauty. You'll see.

Age before beauty,
I'm afraid, when bladders call.

I shall return.

Better than pork, isn't it?

Gentlemen, my maid.

If you'll excuse us.

Well, this explains
your cooking.

You're not mine, are you?
You're theirs.

- No.
- Well, God knows you're not a maid.

Those piss-poor skills. Why?

- Maid.
- What?

They knew you'd never have me.
You'd never take protection.

Not if it wasn't on your terms.

Well, at least they know me
by now, that's encouraging.

The paper, what we read,
it's all true.

The noose is tightening.

So they send you.

- They thought I'd...
- Speak.

They thought I'd keep you
interested enough

to stay off the street.

So which are you,
the actress or a whore?

Not that both aren't possible.

Let's see those
skills then, eh?

Let's see just how good
a whore they sent me, huh?

No.

- Let's see you keep me occupied.
- No. No.

Let's... oh, oh.

Heart.

No, no.

- Oh...
- No!

I'm sorry, you can't..

That's right,
and you're gonna help him.

Cardiomyopathy.

- He's got an enlarged...
- I know what cardiomyopathy is.

Then do something about it
before it goes into full arrest.

- I can't. Uh...
- You're gonna make sure that this patient

walks out of here tonight,
and as much as you'll be dying

to open your mouth,
you're not gonna say a word,

because God knows...

Milo Begovich won't
want the world to know

he conspired to keep
a wanted war criminal

in excellent health,
now will he?

You know how many lovers
Comrade Tito took at one time

at his peak,
if you'll pardon the expression?

I read this in a book.

Fourteen. Eh? Fourteen.

I've never taken one.

And I will never harm you.

No, you won't.

- That was an apology.
- I heard you.

You could have
died last night.

Never.
My maid wouldn't allow it.

You are mine, after all.

A monogamist
and a romantic.

Hardly fits the bill,
does it?

My first tour in Italy,
I was newly married,

really missing my wife.

Wanted to send her a letter
from the ship,

so I put the letter
in an envelope,

addressed it to her,
I put the envelope in a bottle,

along with $10
and 10 cigarettes.

The money and the cigarettes
were for whoever

found the bottle and sent
my message of love to her.

So, as we were passing through
the Stretto di Messina,

I flung the bottle
into the sea.

She got the letter
less than three weeks later,

along with $10
and 10 cigarettes.

You gotta love the Italians.

Where is your wife?

Anywhere I'm not, apparently.

Our home, I assume. Actually,
I have no idea at this point.

She won't speak to me.

Quite a pair, aren't we?

I can't keep a relationship,
you're too scared to have one.

Oh, please, allow me to
save you years of therapy:

Daddy's dead,
you hide for a living.

Boringly textbook, my dear.

Blink, and you'll be 60.

But then you know all this,
don't you,

if you're sitting here with me.

Whom are we kidding?

Whereas you, you're just
full of surprises.

You don't have a penis,
do you?

You certainly did last night,

and realized
I needed a babysitter.

- General...
- Who trained you?

You know I can't tell you that.

Really, that risky now, am I?

We don't wanna make it
any more complicated for you.

"We?" "We?"

How old are you again?
Already it's "we?"

- They own you that quickly?
- No one owns me.

No, you choose
to erase your life,

age 26,
change an old men's diapers.

However I can serve.

Serve. Please, we all serve
ourselves, period.

So this is how
you avenge your parents?

Car accident.

- How did it happen?
- Their car was bombed.

Oh, well,
in a car then, anyway.

That part was true.

They were with us.

And now you
take their place.

Balance is restored,
cycle continues, to what end?

What are your hopes?

My hopes?

A young woman trades
her life away,

surely she has reasons
besides hiding from boys.

Security for our people,
our home restored.

Aren't they yours?

Be very careful, my girl.

I'm fine, thank you.

You think your good
service protects you?

You have any idea what I've
done in service to my country?

- I can share some details.
- That's not necessary.

Really, still not curious
about the level of skill

we acquired in annihilating
the human form?

- The speed, the volume?
- Please, don't.

That tribunal would blush
if they knew

just how far off they were,
the real numbers.

I mean, if we're gonna
get it right,

- let's get it right, people.
- Stop.

And for that service,
that level of dedication,

why, I should only assume

my country's perpetual
gratitude, no?

This fine lifestyle.

Be very, very careful.

And now, maid, if you'll
do me the kind service

of helping me off
this fucking bed.

Who was this man,
to have such a daughter?

There's something else
for you, I forgot,

in the living room,
on the floor.

Thought I recognized
that shape in your apartment.

Matter of fact, it was
the only thing I recognized.

It was yours, right?

Not a weapon.

From Mum and Dad, I presume.

Would you?

- No.
- Why not?

I don't play
in front of others.

You're not
in front of others.

You're utterly alone, remember?
I don't exist.

Please.

Do you own a car, ma'am?

Hey, for all I know,
you're a cabbie.

Nothing would surprise me
at this point.

- And why do we need a car?
- Time for a trip.

Yes, that's exactly what they
don't want you doing right now.

- Precisely.
- Your heart won't stand

- another round like last night.
- All the more reason.

The noose is tightening.
Your words, verbatim.

Well, then,
there's no time to waste.

I'm still your employer.

I've stated my desires.

So, maid, make it happen.

And where are we going?

You wanted a car.

Yes, and you've taken Miro's,
my driver.

He won't
be needing him now. Go.

Same rocks, same hills,
different name.

Idiocy.

You'll never know
your true homeland.

Ethnic division, dirty little
secret, Christian, Turk.

Before all this, nobody gave
a shite who their neighbor was.

They just were, it worked.

Then the breakup,
out come the maps,

lines pulled out of their asses.

Suddenly we're "ethnic,"
divided.

No different, just with guns
at each other's heads

fighting over map creases
we never knew existed.

- At the end, we eliminated...
- I eliminated.

Don't take credit where credit's
not due, it's unbecoming.

Wasn't the battle already lost
when the order was given?

Don't be coy.
I gave the order.

Go on, then, finish it.

The massacre's what you meant,
isn't it?

God, you're just like
my daughter.

They polluted the lot of you.

Massacre.
Numbers are irrelevant.

It was a deposit
on the future.

How dare you judge me?

Is that why your parents died,
so you could judge my actions?

- I'm simply trying...
- I could throw you out of this car right now for treason.

Well, they weren't alive
to explain it, so forgive me.

Doesn't reflect so well on you,
then, does it?

Throw yourself into a mission
you're clueless about,

just to figure out
who the hell you are.

I'm only asking
the question a country

of young people
don't understand.

I owe them nothing.

They owe me.

All of you.

Yeah, go on, drive, drive.
Yeah, make yourself useful.

Can you please tell me
where we're going?

You're the bookworm,
you tell me.

In the spring of '42,

the General was born in
the simple village of...

- Brusnica.
- Brava.

- We're...
- Going home.

- Unprotected.
- Whatever do you mean? I've got my maid.

- You've never been back.
- God, no, far too dangerous.

- Please tell me why now.
- I have a ride.

Well, I said
my wife was there,

but you know, I don't even
know whether that's true.

Communication,
the first casualty of war.

Or maybe that's just
a bullshit excuse.

When the first fight broke out
and I was shipped north,

my daughter was just
starting graduate school.

Talking to her then,
whoa, that was tough.

And trust me, it had nothing
to do with combat.

Young people never wanna
talk to your parents, do you?

Why should she
be any different?

And eventually,
the only communication she had

was what she read about me
in the morning paper.

News...

You're too young to remember
when news became entertainment,

good guys, bad guys.

Suddenly, the whole
fucking thing's a bad Western,

and everyone wants a villain.

A melodrama right there,
on the nightly news,

and hooray,
we need a villain.

It's casting, the whole
thing's just casting.

And guess who
plays the villain?

She's supposed
to hear all this,

a young woman,
good, sweet young woman.

She's supposed to swallow
all this and survive.

Suicide...

They killed her,
they took her,

every last one of them.

The West, the media,
the merchants of shite.

Then they took her funeral,
which meant, of course,

I couldn't get near it,
couldn't bury my own daughter.

And that unforgivable fact
took my marriage.

So you tell me,
which is the more tragic?

That after all this, we neither
won nor lost the war,

or that 10 years on,
the homeland's biggest hero

has no home left to speak of?

Take a right up ahead.

Hungry?

You can't be serious.

Here? It's not even open.

It's always open.

Do you not see
where we are?

Twenty kilometers
from my village.

Thank you.

When I was young,
that woman knew

every stupid move I made
on this road, at this table.

Now she'd never forgive me.

The good memories die first.

If you'll excuse me.

You know we can't stay long.

Oh, um...

0-6-4-2-6-4-6-1-9-3.

Yeah, a local call.

Hello? Hello?

Hello?

Thank you.

Now we go back.

- What?
- Back.

We came, we saw.

- Just drive.
- No.

- I'll take the car.
- It's a suicide.

- It's my right.
- You have no rights.

You lost those years ago.

You're a... a fugitive,
you're a responsibility.

You're here by the grace
of a handful of loyal friends

who have put their families
and lives at risk to protect you

and feed you and nurse you,
and you have done nothing

but shit on every last
one of them.

Now, I'm sorry for
your many losses,

but this is what is:
We go back.

Leave me.

I can't do that.

Why? Why, if I'm such
a fucking burden?

Do you think those idiots would
actually try and take me here?

It's too obvious,
they don't do obvious.

Tanja, my beloved maid...

all that you see here
I lost many years ago

in service to my country.

I don't ask for pity.

How can I?
I'm nothing now.

What harm can it do
to let a ghost wander?

- Get down.
- Oh, you too?

Stay down.

Fuck me, how do we do this?

- Follow my words.
- What?

I guide, you drive.
Slow down.

First place ahead,
market on the left.

Old buggers hanging
around outside, right?

- Turn there.
- Turn?

Right.

- And?
- Straight.

Now, the road's gonna curve.

Curve...

now.

Old Ganovich place
overhead on the right.

Should be laundry day.

End of the block,
building on the corner.

- Police station.
- Fuck me.

Take the turn.

- Now wait.
- What?

Almost there.

Now, just up on the right,
café with a green sign.

- Café?
- Yeah, old drunk on the bench,

- definitely asleep by now.
- No.

- What do you mean, "no?"
- Nothing.

- It's gone?
- There's nothing there.

- It's empty, it's...
- It...

What should I do?

Stop the car.

Come on, now.

Just over the hill.

Drive.

Bottom of the hill,
park there.

Five minutes.

Five minutes, and we go.

You know we can't do that.

Do not take this away.

And watch it end here?

How does that help her?

Never ask a father that.

She'll know.

You'll stay in the car,
in this car,

and not move an inch
unless I say so. Is that clear?

Are you out of
your fucking mind?

I know, I'm sorry.

Give me your gun.
Give me your gun.

Subtitles by explosiveskull