Original subtitles

Over here. Come on, come on.

Let's go. Move it.

(rustling nearby)

What was that?

This is a restricted area!

Identify yourself,

or you will be detained!

(two silenced gunshots)

Get the crate.

Welcome to the Big Easy, Mr. Desmond.

Hope you enjoy your stay.

♪ NCIS:New Orleans 5x02 ♪ Inside Out Original Air Date on October 2, 2018

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom

♪ How, how, how, how

♪ Hey, hey

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

♪ You gotta come on.

Good morning, Christopher.

Not for everyone, it ain't.

COD of both vics

is a single, close-range GSW to the base

of the skull, and the placement's identical.

- Multiple shooters? - Can't be sure, but the victims

died simultaneously and without warning.

- They were ambushed. - Most likely. By people

who were advanced in training.

How do you know that?

The entry wound angles are precise, almost surgical.

The bullets had a direct path to the brain stem.

Like flipping a light switch.

Meet David Anderson and Ted Loomis.

Found their DIA credentials in the van. But get this:

they're both administrative clerks out of DC.

Since when do clerks carry MP5s?

About as often as they conduct covert field operations. Never.

Hey, guys. Come check this out.

All right, so riddle me this: what do you get when you cross

a plain pine box with a self-contained oxygen system

and reinforced restraints?

The perfect way to transport someone without anybody knowing.

Yeah.

The jack in this box was pretty banged up, too.

I found significant blood and skin cell traces.

LASALLE: This wasn't a hit.

It was a rescue mission.

Anderson and Loomis were just collateral damage.

Why is the Defense Intelligence Agency

running ops here without letting us know?

Don't know. But we got at least one trained gunman

out there on the loose, and they're gonna tell us

who was in this crate and why.

Who gets to make that call?

Till Pride comes back, the privilege is all mine.

PRIDE: Good seeing you.

We'll see you later on today, all right?

Thank you. Hey.

Okay,

- Mr. Rogers. - Wha...?

Now that you've literally said hello

to every person in your neighborhood,

can we please keep it moving?

- What's the rush? - Glad to see you, Dwayne.

Thank you. The sun is out,

there's not a cloud in the sky;

it's a perfect day for a walk. - A short walk

is what we agreed to. - People want to chat.

- How you doing? - MAN: Hey, Dwayne.

It'd be rude to ignore them.

You are loving it, Dad.

Ah, maybe a little.

You know I wouldn't have made it this far without you.

And that is why you are my favorite child.

I'm your only child.

- Mm. - (chuckles)

And who are you fooling?

With or without me, you would've fought your way back.

I'm not so sure about that.

Tell me something. (bicycle bell dings)

How'd you get to be so smart?

Mm, Mom.

Good-lookin'?

Mom.

(both laugh)

(monitor beeping) Check the monitor.

(coughs) I'm fine.

Just do it. Please?

(sighs)

Yeah, I've...

145 BPM.

It's time to go back upstairs.

Just let me catch my breath.

Let's do another loop around the block.

Dad, it's only been eight weeks. Your body is still healing.

You need to rest. Go upstairs.

I'll run to the market, and if you're good,

maybe I will let you help me cook dinner later.

Mémé's world-famous étouffée?

If you're good.

I'll be good.

Okay.

- Bye. - Bye.

Yeah, I understand that, ma'am, but I've called

and left three messages for our DIA liaison.

Special Agent Christopher Lasalle.

Lasalle. L-A-S...

You know what, forget it. I'll call back later.

- Still no luck with the DIA? - No.

I don't see how Pride does it. I mean, sorting through

all this red tape is like a full-time job in itself.

What about Deputy Director Sanchez?

Radio silence. His assistant says

he's in a budget meeting all day.

Well, maybe that's code for catching a Nationals game.

What are you doing here, Pride?

Nice to see you, too, Gregorio.

Hi.

Hi.

You're looking good, King.

One day at a time.

Really happy to see you,

but shouldn't you be home resting?

I'm taking a break from taking a break.

Don't worry, it's just a social call.

Good news: I got a hit on the blood from the crate. It's a...

Oh, thank God.

Wha...? Seba...

GREGORIO: Easy, baby. He's still recovering.

What? Oh, sorry. I'm sorry.

It's okay, Se... Sebastian, it's okay.

Look, I know y'all got work to do.

I'm just gonna drop these pastries in the kitchen,

and then I'll get out of your hair.

Thank you, King.

Yeah.

You were saying you got a hit off the blood from the crate?

Yeah. So, DNA from the crime scene

matched an Interpol profile for a particularly bad dude.

LASALLE: Terrance Desmond? - Desmond was

a former IRA bomb maker

behind a 2004 pub explosion that killed 18.

Spent the last ten years

selling his services to the highest bidder.

Navy was investigating his involvement

in a bombing attempt in a forward staging base

off the coast of Yemen. - Yeah.

About a month ago, he just... he disappeared.

Considering the box he was in,

I'd say it was more like taken.

Yeah. Somebody wanted him back.

Probably to build them a bomb.

- We got to find him now. - What we need

is more Intel from HQ. I mean, without it,

we're swinging in the dark while the clock keeps ticking.

Maybe I can help.

When it comes to getting DC on the phone,

I can be very persuasive.

AUTOMATED VOICE: Please enter

your challenge word.

(beeping)

Access granted.

Thanks for taking my call, Dan.

To be honest, Dwayne, I wasn't expecting

to hear from you for quite some time.

- I didn't know you were back at work. - I'm not.

- Just pinch-hitting. - He's helping us on an important case.

This about the DIA and the missing prisoner,

Terrance Desmond? - Kind of hard for us to do our job

when you don't answer our calls, sir.

Apologies, Agent Lasalle.

Special Agent in Charge McGill retired a month ago.

We've had issues coordinating our Southeast field offices.

All the SSAs formerly under his watch

have unfortunately felt the void.

When is Director Vance gonna pick a replacement?

He already has. Look, Dwayne, I was gonna fly down there

to tell you this in person. - Tell me what?

You're the new SAC.

That's funny.

I'm not joking. Yes, your methods

have ruffled a few feathers, but nobody can argue

with your success rate or level of commitment.

The choice was an easy one to make.

Don't say no yet, Dwayne.

Do me a personal favor and think about it.

Well, if Pride leaves, what happens to NCIS New Orleans?

Glad you asked.

(jazz music playing in distance)

(sighs)

(phone ringing)

NCIS. Special Agent Khoury.

We appreciate the support, Sergeant Rivers.

You'll have a full suspect dossier in ten minutes.

Sergeant, I cannot stress enough how extremely dangerous

Terrance Desmond is.

Yeah, hang on a second, please?

Sebastian,

right? - Mm.

You have impeccable timing.

(mouth full): Thank you. NOPD needs everything

we've got on Terrance Desmond.

Do you mind sending those files over?

- Uh, yeah, I-I can do that. -Great.

While we're at it, let's circle back with Interpol.

See if you can get whatever you can

on friends, family, known associates.

It might shed some light on some of our shooters, too.

- Uh, okay, yeah, I'm-I'm all over it. - Okay, great.

And, Sebastian?

You got a little something on your...

The other side.

Oh.

- (chuckles) - Okay.

Who is she?

I don't know.

- Why are you taking orders from her? - I don't know.

Hey. Is there something I can help you with, Ms....?

Khoury.

Hannah Khoury. As a matter of fact, there is.

- Gregorio? - Yeah.

I could really use your opinion.

- My opinion? - Yeah. What if I were to tell you

our dead DIA clerks were actually security specialists

assigned to transfer high-value detainees into Navy custody?

- I'd need more details on the operation. - What if there weren't any?

What if the DIA was only providing support

for someone else's party? A very private one,

where the guests don't officially exist.

CIA ghost prisoners?

Exactly what I was thinking.

- Hey, what's going on, man? - Um, the DIA

is helping the CIA move off-the-record detainees.

- Move them from where? - Million dollar question,

Patton, one of several.

And since our associates at Langley

aren't known for their warm and fuzzy cooperation,

we're gonna have to find the answers on our own.

Who the hell are you?

She's your new boss.

Hi.

This can't be happening. He literally just got back.

Why wouldn't Pride tell us he's being replaced?

He's not being replaced. I'm sure he didn't say yes.

PATTON: Well, what if he did? What if he's really done?

I don't want a new boss. I like the one we have.

Plus, I'm awful with change.

Pride'll sort things out.

All right? He always does.

But no matter what happens, we still need to track down

who murdered two DIA agents and find a missing bomb maker.

PRIDE: Sanchez thinks

very highly of you. - Well, then he has me

at a disadvantage, since I've never met the man.

- He offered you my job for a reason. - So you should know,

I only considered the position

after hearing that you would be the new regional SAC.

Rumors of my... promotion have been

greatly exaggerated.

My apologies. I'll remove my name

from consideration. - Don't. You've done nothing wrong.

From what I hear, you're more than qualified

to... fill my shoes.

(chuckles): That's an impossible assignment,

Special Agent Pride, but...

I will do my best, if I still have the job.

You're modest for someone with such an impressive track record.

- Same could be said of you. - You've consulted

with four different support teams in less then two years.

Naples, Bahrain, Yokosuka, Hong Kong.

Singapore, actually.

What can I say, I have a flair for the exotic.

Then why take a full-time post in New Orleans?

I go where I'm needed.

That's your answer for the bosses.

What's the real one?

First, can I ask you something?

Why did you come to work today?

Nobody would have expected you to come back so soon,

if at all, but here you are.

My guess is that once upon a time you made a choice,

you decided to put your job above all else.

Self-sacrifice for the greater good.

That what you're doing?

Truth is, I'm tired of living out of a suitcase.

And I'm tired of saying good-bye to friends.

And I am tired of pretending

that I don't need consistency in my life.

It's time to find a home.

That said,

I have no intention of kicking you out of yours.

And, until you say otherwise...

I'm just a guest.

And I'm just a guy dropping off pastries.

Understood.

But since you are already here,

there's no harm in sticking around for a minute.

LAUREL: Dad?!

PRIDE: I know I should have

left you a note. - Yeah, or called or texted,

or just gone home like you were supposed to.

Look, Laurel... I missed my team.

- I needed to know they're all right. - They're adults, Dad.

I'm pretty sure they can be trusted to survive a few months.

You, on the other hand...

I'm fine. You keep saying that,

but less than two months ago

you were dying on an operating table.

And the first chance you get, you race back into the chaos.

- I don't know what to say. - Then just...

listen.

When they first told me you'd been shot,

all I could think about was never seeing you again.

About never playing the piano with you, or never laughing

at your corny dad jokes.

And, in that moment, I've never felt more alone or afraid.

But you're not alone. I'm right here.

Yeah, but for how long?

I'm asking you to really start looking

at the priorities in your life.

You will always be what's most important to me.

But I have responsibilities.

Your responsibility is to get better.

The new agent just asked for my help with some paperwork,

a little research, that's all.

The team needs me.

I just wish you'd let someone else

wear the cape every once in a while.

Look...

No capes for me right now, sweetie. I promise.

But I just want you to know that...

I don't think I'm ever gonna give up the tights.

No, I'm serious. (laughs)

Hey, just had a chat with an old friend

from CIA Military Affairs.

Let me guess, there's no official record of any joint

CIA/DoD op involving ghost detainees.

Well, according to the Agency,

there's no such thing as ghosts, period.

I'm hoping your "old friend" has a differing opinion.

On the record, no,

on the DL, undocumented prisoners might just exist.

And if they did, the most valuable ones

might be trackable through an RF microchip.

I've heard rumors of GPS trackers being implanted

without detainees' consent or even knowledge.

Hey, if we could get the chip RFID,

Patton might be able to pinpoint his exact location.

I'm gonna try Sanchez.

Great job, Gregorio.

Thanks.

(GPS beeps)

All right, well,

according to the GPS, Desmond's somewhere in that barn.

GREGORIO: I got four additional targets.

LASALLE: Yeah, could be more inside. I'll call backup, they should be here in 10 minutes.

That chopper could be airborne before they arrive.

We take them now.

♪ ♪

Desmond.

Gregorio, move!

NCIS! Drop your weapons!

Let's go!

(grunts)

(groaning)

Check the barn!

(shouting)

Desmond. Show us your hands.

Damn it.

Why rescue a bomb maker,

only to kill him before he even makes one?

It was never gonna happen.

At least not with the supplies that we found in that barn.

Well, I see a lot of parts on that table.

SEBASTIAN: Yeah, except there's no rhyme or reason for any of them.

Robert Oppenheimer couldn't have made a bomb

from that pile of crap.

Something's not making sense.

What are we missing here?

What else do we know about the men in black?

Only that they're great at covering their tracks.

There was no bio-trace at that crime scene.

No hair. No fingerprints. Nothing.

HANNAH: Fortunately for us,

they did leave something behind.

We struck out on print and DNA.

Still no positive I.D.

Rules him out as former military.

At least not American.

I think this one's gonna be a tough nut to crack.

Well, it's a good thing we've got an interrogation expert

to get the job done.

(door opens)

Want to tell me your name?

Okay, I will, uh,

I'll tell you mine.

It's Hannah.

Today's my first day

on a new job, and, the truth is,

I am kind of nervous.

There is a quick and painless way to do this.

Oh, yeah?

You mean the one that makes you look good,

look good in front of your boss.

He's literally watching every move I make.

We already know...

you didn't rescue Terrance Desmond

to build a bomb.

So why'd you take him?

If your mission was to kill him,

why did you wait till we arrived?

Why stick around and risk being caught?

I think the mission was poorly planned.

I think it was badly executed.

Maybe your boss isn't as good as you thought.

Because when the crap hit the fan,

you were the one left holding the bag.

On the hook for not one, but three murders.

You were abandoned. You were betrayed.

And I'm not surprised because I've seen it before.

The weakest link, the runt of the litter,

is always thrown to the wolves.

First of all, I'm not a runt.

And second,

I didn't kill anybody. (laughs)

I was hired last second

for this job to replace a no-show. - Hired by whom?

Look, you don't know these people.

The things that they would do to me

if they, if they even thought...

They already think you are talking.

Right now, we're your only protection

from the things that they would do.

S... Smith.

That's the name of the team leader.

- And the mission? - I don't ask questions.

In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best policy.

(scoffs)

Wait.

The helicopter was supposed to take us to a private airstrip,

and there was supposed to be a jet that met us there.

And that is all that I know.

I swear.

You believe him?

Not a word.

Me neither. But...

But what?

Due diligence, with an abundance of caution.

We roll the dice, check out every private airstrip

in a hundred-mile radius.

It's the only play we got.

Smith and his men have a huge head start.

We need to move fast.

Tammy, Sebastian and I will split up.

Cover more ground that way.

Have Patton coordinate backup in each location. Just in case.

You got it.

I'm gonna do another round with our mystery guest.

He knows more than he's saying.

I'm right behind you.

Dwayne.

Loretta.

I brought my report on Terrance Desmond.

Came all this way just to deliver autopsy results?

That's not a "happy to see me" face.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

I'm just wondering what your ulterior motive is.

Okay. You got me. Somebody told me that you were back at work.

- Don't bother asking who. - Laurel.

You're damn right, Laurel.

Loretta, I'm riding a desk helping the team.

With all due respect, last thing I need is another lecture

on how I'm pushing myself too hard.

I knew you wouldn't listen anyway.

(sighs)

You know you can't teach an old dog.

Even an old dog can see miracles don't happen every day.

I know how blessed I am.

Do you, Dwayne?

The things you saw when you were in the other place--

they weren't random.

Everything happens for a reason.

What do you think that reason is?

Doesn't matter what I think.

You have to find the answer for yourself.

There's no other way.

Now, do you want to hear my report

on Terrance Desmond or not?

Please.

Okay. Cause of death is a GSW to the neurocranium.

There's no surprise there,

but the time of death-- now that is rather unexpected.

Based on body temp and lividity, I'd say

he'd already been dead at least 18 hours.

18. Excuse me, Loretta.

(panting): Oh.

I'm okay.

(sighs)

- We've got a problem. - He isn't talking?

I'm not seeing any of the vulnerability

I'd expect from a frightened subordinate.

Desmond wasn't killed in that barn.

He was shot right after they took him from the dock.

Why make an assassination look like a rescue?

Maybe they knew we'd use the GPS chip to track Desmond.

- Maybe they wanted us to find him. - Why?

So we could arrest one of their own and bring him here.

He only told us about the airstrip

so we'd send everyone away.

- They're gonna attack NCIS. - Yeah.

We need to call NOPD now.

Go, go, go, go, go!

Come on! Run!

You're three minutes late.

Apologies, sir. We were waiting

for Lasalle, Gregorio and Lund to clear the neighborhood.

What about Pride, Plame and the cop?

I'm securing them as we speak. There's another agent

in the building-- Hannah. Find her.

On it.

(whispering): Okay.

- You all right? - Yeah.

HANNAH (whispering): There's no signal.

Landlines and computer communications are down, too.

They must be using a jammer.

Yeah, we're on our own.

My gun's locked in observation.

Yeah, mine's at home.

- Weapons locker? - Squad room.

We'll never make it without getting spotted.

- I got something. - What?

I keep this in case somebody want to start something.

It's impressive, but I don't think

it's gonna do much against submachine guns.

So what you're saying is

we're screwed? - Not just us, P.

Move it!

Take the cop to see Smith.

Let's go.

(squeaking)

SMITH: All right, listen up.

Hide and seek is over, boys and girls.

So, do yourself a favor

and come out now.

PATTON: Oh, man,

they got Roy.

But not Loretta.

Maybe she got out of the building.

No.

She's still inside.

- How can you be sure? - I...

I just am.

SMITH: Now, I'm gonna count

to three.

And then, if you don't show yourselves,

I'm gonna shoot Officer Friendly right in the face.

- I got a plan. - We're all ears.

- We surrender. - That's not funny.

It's the only way.

He's right.

One.

Two.

Hey, if we get killed, I'm gonna be pissed.

Okay.

We're coming out!

We're unarmed!

Well, hey there, friends.

You're the leader.

You're Smith.

Surprise.

- What do you want? - Well, for starters,

I'm, uh, I'm gonna need the key fob to your SCIF room.

You can have mine...

but first you need to let everyone else go.

(Pride groans)

Give me the damn key fob.

After... you let everyone else go.

Okay.

(Pride groans)

(groaning continues)

HANNAH: Stop it!

Take mine.

Come on.

I'm gonna need your challenge word, too, please?

You know, this time,

I'm not even gonna count.

I'll just kill him.

(Pride panting)

(monitor beeping)

(heart beating loudly)

(heart beating loudly)

(monitor beeping rapidly)

(beeping stops)

(heart beating slowly)

- Athena. - (monitor beeping)

The challenge word is "Athena."

- Too late. - (gun clicks)

(monitor continues beeping)

It's your lucky day.

Shut that damn thing off.

Take the cop, lock him in the bathroom.

(grunts)

(beeping stops)

SMITH: If they try anything, shoot them all.

(shallow, labored breathing)

Slow, deep breaths.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

I've never seen him like this.

He's gonna be okay. We all will.

You know something I don't?

Just be ready.

Hey, sit down! It's a trap.

I told you, sit down.

The challenge word I gave Smith is a panic code.

Within minutes of using it,

this place is gonna be swarming with feds.

You're full of it.

You really think Smith would be willing to take that chance?

Cover them. I'll talk to Smith.

(grunting)

(man groans)

(Hannah groans)

(man yells)

Damn it!

Kill 'em all.

(man yells)

Move! Move! Move!

(sirens wailing)

(device beeps)

Get down!

(coughing)

(sirens wailing)

(siren wailing)

Well, every cop in New Orleans

is out looking for Smith and his team.

No surprise, we didn't find a jet waiting to whisk them away.

It was a wild-goose chase to split us up.

SCIF was always the target.

So these psychos killed two DIA agents

and staged an elaborate rescue of Desmond

just to access our secure network?

Yeah. Question is why?

Smith blew up the SCIF terminal.

But network activity is recorded on off-site servers.

I'll see every file he accessed. It'll take time.

Time is what he was buying himself to complete his mission.

We don't even know what that mission is

or who these guys really are.

Yeah, but thanks to Pride,

we got something that might help us find out.

- What? Fingerprints? - Close enough.

(chuckles)

Hey, Rita, it's me.

Nothing's wrong. I just want to hear your voice.

Call me when you get this.

Heard we missed quite a party.

Food was good.

Band sucked.

King, we need to talk about what happened.

Everybody's safe.

That's all that matters.

You had a loaded gun pointed to your face.

Yeah.

I knew it was gonna misfire.

How could you have possibly known that?

I can't explain it.

But in the moment before he pulled the trigger,

I saw I was gonna be all right.

What I didn't see

was how we were being manipulated from the start.

We all missed that.

Pieces were there.

Just didn't put 'em together, and we all paid a price.

No, we're gonna make this right.

All right, we're gonna find these guys.

Yeah.

Then I need to make things right with my daughter.

Need to call her?

I already did.

Of course I couldn't tell her what happened here.

Not yet anyway.

No need to make her worry any more than she already has.

Long as I'm doing this job, she's gonna worry.

Just like her mom.

Especially when riding a desk almost bought me a bullet.

(chuckles)

Maybe that regional SAC promotion isn't the worst idea.

- (chuckles) - Plus...

you'd do a hell of a job at it.

Just focus on Smith and his team for now, huh?

Hey, you guys need to see this.

I got an I.D. off those fingers.

Roger Beeg.

Washed out of the Air Force before moving overseas

to fly for a handful of private military outfits.

Interpol's latest Intel has him linked to another mercenary,

Avery Walker.

- Smith. - Yeah, one and the same.

Walker was an independent security contractor

in the Middle East.

Then he started working

for a Russian oligarch named Sergei Leonid.

Runs an international crime syndicate with ties

to at least three foreign terrorist organizations.

Yeah, CIA's been trying to get this guy

for years, but he's always managed

to stay one step ahead until recently.

Unidentified gunmen abducted Leonid from a Moscow hotel

about a month ago. PATTON: Get this.

Smith used SCIF to access Intel

on the CIA's interrogation program

that uses floating black sites

on international waters.

Away from American soil.

And all civil rights.

What exactly was Smith looking for?

Classified coordinates

of the CIA's ship anchored 30 nautical miles

south of the Louisiana coastline.

PRIDE: I'm guessing the same one

Terrance Desmond departed from in a crate.

Desmond's not the only familiar name

on that ship's guest list.

Sergei Leonid.

Smith knew Desmond

was coming in at that dock,

but he didn't know where he was coming from.

He needed those coordinates from SCIF

so he could rescue his boss.

All right, look, we need to contact that ship

right away.

I don't know who authorized this call,

but you've violated at least six

different DoD protocols by even making it.

Captain, you are facing an imminent attack.

You need to get your vessel underway immediately.

I can't do that

without direct orders from Langley.

And while I appreciate your concern,

I assure you we can handle any threat

that comes our way. (gunshots)

Captain, wait.

(man shouting)

(indistinct announcement over speakers)

Four-man crew is dead

along with two CIA interrogators.

- And Leonid? HANNAH: Gone.

Navy and Coast Guard are searching for him.

Looking for a needle in a haystack.

Yeah. Like, 500 square miles worth.

Maybe Leonid was implanted with a tracking chip

like Desmond's.

He was... until it got cut out.

Damn.

Smith has anticipated

every one of our moves so far.

Well, then he also knows we'll be searching

for him in the open water.

He must have another exit strategy.

Pride, I got something.

H-Hang on.

- Go. - Ghost ship coordinates

weren't the only thing that Smith was after.

He also accessed a classified joint DoD/FAA file.

Why would he be interested in the FAA?

Government transponder codes. Every aircraft has one,

even military and classified ones.

DoD provides the codes of their planes to the FAA

so they won't have to interact

with any civilian air traffic control. - Yeah.

It makes flying the friendly skies even friendlier.

PRIDE: Smith could spoof

a classified DoD transponder and fly anywhere

without being stopped or tracked. - Yeah, all he needs

is a plane and a trained pilot.

Roger Beeg.

Pride, what do we got?

The answer.

Turns out Smith wasn't lying about everything.

Our chariot awaits.

(indistinct chatter, laughter)

What did I tell you? Didn't I tell you?

All right, everybody, load up!

We're gonna be there in no time.

(helicopter blades whirring)

Federal agents, stay where you are.

Do not move or we will open fire!

Keep your hands above your head.

Do not move or we will open fire.

Keep your hands above your head.

Down on your knees!

Get down!

Let's go.

- Don't move. - Aah!

Walker, stop!

Get your hands where I can see them.

Now.

You won't make it.

You're sweating.

Your hand is shaking, too.

I assume your heart's going a million miles a minute.

Adrenaline overloading your nervous system.

You know what that's called?

Post-traumatic stress disorder.

So I think it's you who's not gonna make it.

Only one way to find out.

But if you go for that weapon,

I will shoot you.

Chances are good that my...

my gun won't misfire.

So what do you think, Walker?

Are you a gambling man?

Huh?

Down on the ground!

MAN: Don't move!

I guess you were right.

Today is my lucky day.

You all right, boss?

Yeah. Yeah.

Never been better.

(all cheering)

Yeah!

(laughter)

Well, it is not the first day that I expected,

but a win is a win, even if I am covered in scrapes and bruises.

Fun never stops around here.

- Yeah, keeps things interesting. HANNAH: Ooh.

Sounds like the best job in the world.

Oh, it is.

Long as you survive.

You ain't got to worry about this woman. I seen her

kick some commando ass.

- Welcome to the family. - Thank you.

Welcome to the dysfunction.

Bi salamati.

It means "to your health."

- Amen. - I'll second that.

- Cheers. - All right. - Uh-oh.

(laughter) LASALLE: Roll Tide.

SEBASTIAN: I feel like this is sort of a lighter pour.

(laughter) Hoo-rah!

PATTON: Where you get this from? LASALLE: It's all we need.

(chatter continues)

(shower running)

(groaning softly)

♪ ♪

(blues music playing)

Hmm-hmm.

Yeah, yeah, that smells delicious.

(laughs) - (chuckles)

Your mémé would be so proud.

She always said, "fat equals flavor."

(chuckles) Yes, she did.

And butter equals better.

(chuckles)

Let's see.

Mm-hmm.

That works.

Yeah? Yeah, you've done it right.

- Good. - (laughs)

Hey, Laurel...

about yesterday.

Sometimes it, uh...

it's hard for me to get out of my own way.

I'm not asking you to change your spots, Dad,

just to slow down a little.

Yeah, well, I'm-I'm never gonna be

the rocking chair type, sweetie, I...

Yeah, but there has to be some sort of middle ground.

A place where the bad guys aren't always gunning for you,

even if all you're doing is paperwork.

How'd you get to be so smart?

I already told you. Mom. (chuckles)

But you may have helped a little.

Now, get out of this kitchen and set the table

so I can finish dinner.

Yes, ma'am.

Yeah, go on. Get!

(chuckles)

(blues music continues)

♪ Lord, I'm drifting, Lord, I'm drifting... ♪

LASALLE: We have a 1055. Multiple gunshots to the chest.

SONJA: Dwayne, can you hear me?

GREGORIO: We need to know where that damn ambulance is.

WADE: He's still bleeding. I don't know where

it's coming from. (phone ringing)

♪ If I had listened

♪ To what my dead old mother said... ♪

(groans)

Deputy Director Sanchez, thank you for calling me back.

Tell me about this new job.

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man