Original subtitles

CLEMENT: Previously on Justified: City Primeval...

BRYL: Any weapons, we're bringing them

all back to the station.

You see? We got a wrecking crew, too.

- Judge's stupid fucking diary has got to be here somewhere.

TRENNELL: Did you stop at an antique shop

on the way back? SWEETY: It's Mansell's.

Thought he was slick stashing it here.

If this gun were to show itself,

where does that leave me? CAROLYN: Turn it in.

Let's get this cracker off our backs for good.

- You're marrying Sandy Stanton?

- Sandy's very close with her brother.

Apparently he wants to meet me first,

so I say fine.

MAUREEN: Mansell, Stanton, and the Albanian kid

have been inside nearly an hour.

Should be wrapping up. [engine turning over]

[tires squealing]

- All right. Here we go.

[engine revs]

- You need to get the fuck out of here, bro.

[lively banjo music]

♪ ♪

SANDY: Clement, don't.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

- Why don't you get in that doorway.

♪ ♪

Hmm?

I said move. [Skender grunts]

♪ ♪

Sandy!

Why don't you do me a favor and, uh, head over

to that switch, would you?

SANDY: What are you gonna do to him?

- [speaking Albanian]

CLEMENT: I didn't understand you, partner.

- You are walking dead man.

CLEMENT: Hmm. [Skender groaning]

Put your goddamn leg in the opening.

- [grunts, gasps]

- Or either leg. I don't care.

SANDY: Babe...

why don't you just punch him in the face?

- Flip the switch.

- Bullshit!

CLEMENT: Put your leg down,

or I'm gonna splat your curly flap head

all over this basement.

♪ ♪

CLEMENT: Sandy...

flip the fucking switch.

♪ ♪

[switch clicks]

[Skender yells]

- I am very disappointed,

but I ain't mad at you,

or I would have pulled the trigger by now.

You see, when you're lying in the hospital

with your leg in a cast,

I don't want you to have any bad thoughts

like wanting to tell the police or anybody...

because if you do,

I'm gonna come visit you again...

- [screams] CLEMENT: And I'm gonna put

your head in there instead of your leg.

You hear me? [door clangs]

- [screaming] - [yelps]

[PA chimes]

[indistinct chatter, telephones ringing]

BRYL: I'm good. I'm good, I'm good.

Oh, look who's here.

The Hat shows up when all the fun's done.

- Heard there was a fender bender.

- Yeah, these two got themselves

Beverly Hills Cop'd.

DPD tracked the vehicle to one of the properties--

a warehouse building in Corktown.

- So we land, right?

We find a dozen goddamn Albanians

carrying homeboy on their shoulders

like Christ off the cross.

We roll up like, "Hey, guys, what's crackin'?"

They say, "Go fuck yourselves. He fell down the stairs."

- That clumsy Jesus now?

MAUREEN: Yep, shattered leg, broken in five places at least.

BRYL: Get him to implicate Mansell.

Get this prick off the street.

Get him for ag assault if not murder, right?

Be a star. Come on.

MAUREEN: We don't get Mansell in lockup,

Albanians are gonna tear shit up going after him.

- They're gonna try to get to Mansell through the girl.

- Yeah. How we feel about that?

- Anybody but us know about Del Weems' place?

MAUREEN: Just us chickens.

RAYLAN: So then check out Sandy's last known address,

put a car on Weems' condo,

and maybe somebody inside the casino as insurance.

WENDELL: Already on it.

Skender just got out of surgery.

- Hey, give me two minutes with this kid.

WENDELL: Not gonna talk to you.

Only thing that can make that boy sing is Toma.

- What's a Toma?

- Toma Kastiot, kid's uncle.

MAUREEN: Calls the shots for the Albanians

this side of the river.

What Toma says goes.

[soft music]

♪ ♪

[indistinct chatter]

[monitor beeping]

♪ ♪

- Bad step?

I understand, feeling fragile and all.

Boys in blue asking a lot of questions,

maybe asking the wrong person.

- Could we have privacy, please?

This is a family matter.

- I'd like to talk to your boss.

Think we can arrange that? - I don't have a boss.

- Everyone has a boss. Even the boss has a boss.

I got a boss in Miami. You ever been?

Not a bad place.

I'd like to get back there.

Tell your boss he and I have a mutual problem

and I believe we can work for our mutual benefit.

[monitor beeping]

- I'll call him.

- Tell him Deputy U.S. Marshal Raylan Givens.

Name won't mean anything to him,

but maybe the part about it being federal will.

[breathes deeply]

[indistinct chatter]

AGRON: Nice hat.

Stetson 10X?

- Boss has agreed to talk about this mutual problems.

- Look at that.

You got a boss after all.

When does this chat happen?

- Mind if I tag along?

Hey, you may need me. I know a little Albanian.

[upbeat music]

♪ ♪

- [coughing]

CLEMENT: Damn, woman.

- You want some?

CLEMENT: You know, you ain't exactly

a walking advertisement for the shit.

SANDY: [scoffs] Clement, you're the one got me this way.

- Got you what way, darlin'?

SANDY: Got me what way? My nerves are shot.

I mean, look, look at my hand shaking.

- Could be low blood pressure.

SANDY: Why'd you have to go

and do that to Skender, Clement?

Hurt his leg that way. We--we--we never--

we never talked about doing that.

CLEMENT: Well, he was provoking me.

SANDY: How?

How--how was he provoking you so much,

you--you had to go and smash his leg

with a big, like, door?

CLEMENT: Weird-ass bomb shelter with no money in it--

it's the perfect place to store a wad of cash

but this hump uses it for a mini fridge and a hi-fi.

Ha! Phew.

Got you.

[exhales deeply]

Skender Lollygag ain't nothin'. He ain't got nobody.

You can forget about that now. He's old news.

Phew. You smell that?

- [sniffs] What? Toast?

- No, baby, money.

You smell money.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

PERSON: Oh.

♪ ♪

[billiard balls clacking]

♪ ♪

[billiard balls clacking]

- Toma Kastiot?

- The same. You're the marshal?

- Givens. This is Detective Bryl, Detroit Police.

I got to say, I pictured in my mind we'd find you

in different digs.

- My own mother lived here. [billiard balls clack]

I bought the property when it was distressed.

- Distressed as opposed to now?

- [sighs] The clientele is very satisfied.

It is a pleasure to give back to the community.

I hope someday I am cared for

with such, uh, delicacy.

- Yeah. It's peachy.

Uh, hey, listen, Toma,

sorry to hear about your nephew there.

Tough luck.

Ah, that leg, ouch.

[Toma groans, speaking Albanian]

- You want us to Google that or...

TOMA: Uh, it means, um,

"You choose your friends, but family is...

thrust upon you."

My nephew Skender, he is femije idiot--

an idiot man-child

with an unfortunate predilection

for bad decisions.

RAYLAN: Well, here's an opportunity

for him to make better decisions--

helping us out catching the dude who did this to him.

TOMA: I-I know you have come here

to get me to compel Skender to tell you who has done this

so police can arrest

and serve justice as you see fit.

- He catches on fast. [lighter clicking]

TOMA: Mm.

Of course, that justice is really no justice at all.

It is, uh, only satisfaction of a mandate

for the appearance of order.

But order and justice, they are not same thing.

If I wanted to restore order,

I could, of course, instruct Skender to cooperate.

But I am not interested in order.

Justice, however...

justice is meted out

in accordance with the action it remedies.

And in this case...

justice requires more than the law

is willing or able to provide.

- Well, fuck, that was a mouthful.

Let me get you to say that again into my phone.

It'll play great at your arraignment.

- Mr. Kastiot,

while we understand where you're coming from

and respect the personal responsibility

you feel for your nephew, imbecile or no,

we can't have everybody in some kind of dogpile

running around shooting at the wrong people.

- I am not concerned with wrong people.

Who did this to Skender did also unto me.

It is same thing.

I will look this shkertate right in his eye.

- [chuckles] You hear that, Raylan?

You hear him gazing into the eyes

of some Russian dipshit

when what he should be looking for is Clement Mansell.

Oh, come on, this is a secret?

Uh, Toma...

What your nephew doesn't want anybody to know

is that he got legged by a fatback Oklahoma dickwad.

RAYLAN: Give me a minute? BRYL: Sure.

[indistinct PA announcement]

- He was not supposed to tell me this.

The name is unfamiliar,

but, uh, these things have a way of changing.

- Look, I can't stop you from doing

what you're gonna do.

Even sympathize in a way.

But you also need to understand,

your place in line, which is to say, me first.

After I'm done,

you can charge the shit heap with felony assault,

but it ain't gonna mean much if he's doing life.

You understand what I'm sayin'? - You tell me to get in line.

I say, "You want him, you better find him quick,

or he'll be dead."

♪ ♪

Thank you, Marshal Givens.

Perhaps our paths will cross again.

♪ ♪

BRYL: You gonna yell at me?

- I've never been much of a yeller.

BRYL: 'Cause what's not to like?

He's gonna find out anyway.

Either the Albanians lead us to Mansell,

or they turn him into little, tiny pieces--

done and done.

- That's an optimistic point of view.

Another would be we just put a hit out

on our suspect.

BRYL: Excuse me for misunderstanding

that you had the willingness to do what needs getting done.

- I got no problem getting things done.

I do have a problem rolling up on Mansell

facedown in a river shot to death

by some Albanian dipshits...

when what we want

is for the man to be prosecuted,

forced to answer for his crimes,

long period of reflection in a tiny cell.

BRYL: Ah, that's another way to look at it.

BESNIK: Let me be the talking one.

- That means someone out there is not being satisfied, okay?

Smile. BESNIK: Uh, excuse me, please.

- Yes. One second, please, gentlemen.

Okay? Let's get your shoulders up.

You're gonna get to Friday nights, right?

SERVER: Mm-hmm. RICK: Okay, I believe you.

Get on it. Thank you.

Gentlemen, how can I help?

BESNIK: This girl. - Ah.

BESNIK: She's in my sister's wedding party,

and she's late for rehearsal, understand?

Rehearsal starts in a few minutes,

and still she's not here.

We need to find her, as she is not picking up phone.

RICK: Mm.

BESNIK: Can you please give us her address, please?

- I wish I could help you. I really wish I could.

But, um, that old eye in the sky right there

wouldn't look so kindly

on me sprinkling employee information around.

You know, always watching.

- I see. RICK: Yeah.

- Would a $100 bill make it easier?

- Ooh, yeah, it sure would, bro.

But I tell you what-- these guys would not like that.

No.

It's that employee policy.

We can't accept gratuities on the casino floor.

I'm not happy about it either.

Tell you guys what,

why don't I get you guys comfortable in the VIP lounge?

First Old Fashioned's on me, or vodka maybe--whatever.

While you guys are relaxing,

I'm gonna see what I can do about your little problem.

How does that sound? PERSON: [clears throat]

Excuse me.

- Sound good?

BESNIK: That won't be necessary.

I'm sure we can find Sandy's address, uh, another way.

RICK: Mm.

Okay, gentlemen. Good to see you today.

Enjoy your time here, fellas.

Fucking no-neck Albanian cock-twizzlers.

[whistling]

[distant traffic whirring, siren wailing]

[exhales sharply]

[screaming] [engine revs, tires squealing]

BESNIK: You had chance to be polite.

RICK: I'm so sorry--

I know! Please stop!

No! Please!

BESNIK: Agron feels disrespected.

He is sensitive.

RICK: Stop the fucking car! [tires screech]

Whoa, whoa.

Okay. All right. Okay.

♪ ♪

- No, no! No!

BESNIK: Ah, yes. RICK: [laughs nervously]

- It's long fall. - No!

BESNIK: There are two ways

in which you get back on the ground from here.

One, Agron lets you go.

And we peel you off the pavement with a...

How do you say in English?

[speaking Albanian] BOTH: Blowtorch.

BESNIK: Blowtorch and spatula.

- Option two.

BESNIK: Option two--

you give us the address of Sandy Stanton.

RICK: I don't have the address, okay?

That's an HR thing. I don't--[grunts]

BESNIK: Then you go down to HR, and you get the address.

It's no problem, huh? Which one you want?

The address or... [speaking Albanian]

- [whimpers]

- I want you to look at this.

You see how they doin' me?

- It's called an ankle monitoring bracelet, Tyrone.

- But you see how tight this shit is?

It itches, too. Look--look at my foot.

Turnin' all blue and shit.

- Sir...

please. - [scoffs]

CAROLYN: It's not supposed to be comfortable.

It's supposed to keep you out of DDC.

Are you in DDC now?

- What the fuck you giving me a hard time for?

It's like I ain't got no friends.

[scoffs] [door opens]

This cocky motherfucker.

- Don't move.

Don't say shit.

So I'm just gonna go ahead and assume

you're here because of Clement Mansell.

RAYLAN: You're not wrong.

It seems your knucklehead client

may have crossed a line with the local Albanian mob.

- So you're here to question him

about a new complaint, is that it?

- Uh, no.

The Albanian kid whose leg he busted up...

he ain't talkin'.

- And so...

RAYLAN: And so what that means, Carolyn,

is now, as we speak,

hoards of Eastern Europeans are spreading across Detroit

looking to ixnay your client and likely Sandy Stanton

and anyone close to him along the way.

- Why, Marshal...

I think you're trying to scare me.

- I don't have to.

The Albanians should already do that.

- Well, they don't.

- Look, it's not for me

to tell you you're in over your head, Carolyn.

But I ain't been here a week,

and the shit I've seen has certainly given me pause.

- Marshal, this is my job.

I defend killers. That's how I make my money.

- I understand that, but-- CAROLYN: And I don't know

whatever it is you got going on in your head,

but Mansell has the right-- the constitutional right--

to representation.

And I am going to provide said representation

for as long as he pays me to do so,

and nobody's gonna scare me out of doing that.

Anything else you got to ask?

- This is different, and I think you know that.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

CAROLYN: [sighs]

♪ ♪

What do you want from me, Marshal?

- All I want is for Mansell

not to do you any harm.

And I'm afraid he might.

♪ ♪

- You do your job, and I'll do mine.

And we'll see.

♪ ♪

- Okay.

We'll see.

♪ ♪

[indistinct chatter]

- Albanians are already on the move.

- All right, copy that. We're on the move.

[indistinct chatter over police radio]

[car bell dinging]

[dinging stops]

So how'd it go?

[laughing]

That good, huh?

You want some good news? That was Wendell.

Ball's in play, boss.

Come on, let's move. [engine turning over]

- Even though my premium's up to date,

I can't make a claim 'cause why now?

'Cause the police did the damage?

God damn. Come on.

I'll call you back. CLEMENT: God damn.

Smells like bacon in here.

Ooh. They did a number.

- Yeah, they did a number on account of you.

- Me? What'd I do?

- Come in looking for that gun killed the judge and that girl.

You know anything about that?

- Well, if there was a gun did something like that

and if I knew anything about it,

whatever happened,

they didn't find that gun,

'cause baby girl here took it and sunk it

to the bottom of the Detroit River.

Am I right, darlin'?

[funk music playing]

- Look, it ain't as easy as you make it sound--

you know, dump it in the river.

There's people, like, everywhere.

What if one of them saw me?

"Hey, what are you throwing in the river?"

CLEMENT: You and that goddamn weed of yours.

- I wasn't being paranoid, Clement.

I-I just--I got a bad feeling,

and so I wound up bringing it back and h-hiding it here.

And-- - I had no idea.

I swear to God, Sweety.

- Or you told baby girl here to plant that piece in my spot,

set me up to ride your rap.

- Come on, how long we go back, Sweety?

- H-h-honestly, Sweety, I only come to put it here

because it's where he got it from.

♪ ♪

SWEETY: I knew that gun looked familiar.

CLEMENT: Yeah, it's a Walther P-38 9 millimeter--

genuine World War II replica.

It's a good gun.

And here you are saying it looked familiar.

I guess we know why the cops didn't find it, huh?

- Wait, what? SWEETY: Yeah, I found it.

I moved it.

And fuck you for the results.

- [scoffs] Okay.

Little spit and polish, we all good, right?

- Look, they could've hemmed me up for life,

drag me into that interrogation room,

sweat me.

What the hell did you do, man?

- I'm sorry. I am.

It is fucked up what they done here.

I'd love to make it up to you.

- You can start by paying to fix all my shit here.

- Can do, mi amigo.

- Hey!

- Now, this a genuine antique from Albania.

Got to be worth a few grand at any reasonable pawn shop.

- I love how it's suddenly yours to hawk,

like you did something towards getting it.

SWEETY: This what you got for me?

Some hot old-ass Albanian rock?

CLEMENT: [chuckles]

Sweety, how much you know about Judge Alvin Guy?

- I know he ain't gonna fix my bar.

- Oh, but I think he just might.

There's money in these pages, Sweety.

You want to help me count it?

♪ ♪

You got a Stroh's for an old friend?

♪ ♪

[dog barking]

♪ ♪

AGRON: [grunts] [barking continues]

♪ ♪

[lock clicks]

- Can I help you?

- Is Sandy home, please?

- Whom should I say is calling?

- Tell her old friends from college.

- Sandy didn't go to college.

- She worked my cousin's hot dog stand at varsity games.

- You're gonna have to try her at work or something

because Sandy's not here.

[door thuds open] What the fuck?

Get out of here! Get your hands off of me!

Let me go! I said let me go!

istant dog barking]

BESNIK: Here's what's going to happen now.

I'm going to present you with your cell phone.

You're gonna call Sandy Stanton and get her to come home.

- Fat chance of that. - Excuse, please?

- I've been after her for weeks

trying to collect her half of the rent.

Actually, two things are gonna happen.

One, you're gonna unzip my hands

and let me up out of this chair.

And, two, you're gonna get the fuck out of my house

while I try and forget that you were ever here.

- [speaking Albanian] - [shouting in Lao]

- You're acting very brave. [barking continues]

But in my experience, bravery such as this

is an ephemeral thing...

and one subject to conditions working against its being.

- Yeah, that's really poetic.

Now, seriously, get the fuck out of my house!

[shouting in Lao]

- [sighs, speaking Albanian]

Do you know what this is?

- Pliers? BESNIK: [clicks tongue]

It's Albanian tooth extractor.

- Well, what makes it Albanian?

- The fact that I'm holding it.

[cell phone buzzing]

[indistinct chatter, music playing softly]

[buzzing continues]

- All right.

And for the gentlemen... CLEMENT: Yeah. Thank you.

- The steak.

CLEMENT: [clears throat] Baby...

SANDY: Mm-hmm?

- Answer it or silence it and put it in your purse.

But one way or another, please shut it the fuck up,

because, honestly, it is ruining the atmosphere.

♪ ♪

- Hello.

- Sandy, it's Hina. Hi.

- What's wrong? - It's just these--

See, a water pipe broke in our apartment,

and, like, all that water,

it's just, like, heading

straight for the closet in your room.

SANDY: Oh, my God. Shit. Okay.

Um, we need to leave.

- Hey, hon? SERVER: Yes?

CLEMENT: Yeah.

SERVER: How can I help you?

CLEMENT: You know what cut this is?

- The Southern Comfort steak?

CLEMENT: Ding, ding, ding. Ready for Double Jeopardy!

Now, I ordered this steak black and blue.

Do you know what black and blue means?

- Means rare? CLEMENT: Oh, no, ma'am.

It does not mean rare. I means goddamn bloody red.

So here's what I want you to do.

I want you to take this.

I want you to throw it in the trash.

Then I want you to get your chef,

have another steak, smack that on the fire,

sing two verses

"Of Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground"

flip that sucker, sing the third verse,

yank it off, plate it, and bring it back here.

Then I'm gonna cut into this big-ass hunk

of black and blue meat.

And if I don't hear it moo in pain...

[clicks tongue] Then...

we're just gonna start this all over again.

♪ ♪

HINA: Sandy.

- So where were we?

- W-w-we have to go. - Why?

- My apartment's filling up with water

because a pipe broke. HINA: Sandy?

- Are you the landlord? HINA: Sandy!

- No, I'm not the landlord. - Then why do you care?

It's a white man's problem. HINA: Sandy! Sandy!

- I-I've got my Louboutins in there.

I've got my Jimmy Choos. My Balenciaga sock booties.

HINA: Hello?

- Whole new closet full of shoes--

Daddy'll buy 'em for you.

But we are not leaving here until I finish my steak.

HINA: Sandy. Sandy!

SANDY: [sighs]

I'll--I'll be there as soon as I can.

- You happy? She's coming.

BESNIK: I'm happy now.

But in 20 minutes

if Sandy Stanton has not returned home,

Agron will exact the price of one of your molars.

[pliers clack] 15 minutes after that,

Agron will take two teeth. [plier clacking]

Ten minutes more, he will take three teeth.

[pliers clacking]

- Is like pyramid sets at gym.

BESNIK: By an hour, he's taking

eight, ten teeth each time.

[chuckles] I hope for the sake of your, uh--

your pretty smile...

Sandy Stanton comes home soon.

[dark music]

[pliers clank]

♪ ♪

CAROLYN: I got someone

in the county prosecutor's office...

to talk to me.

- Hope my name didn't come up.

- Mm. Matter of fact, it did.

[muffled music playing in the distance]

Way it works is,

you hand over the murder weapon,

you testify to what you know about the Wrecking Crew murders

and the judge being killed,

you get immunity on the Wrecking Crew

and hiding the murder weapon.

♪ ♪

- So, in other words, I snitch.

[lighter clicks] CAROLYN: Clement Mansell

has held this Wrecking Crew murder shit

over your head for years.

This--this is how you stop being his collateral damage.

This.

- I done seen worse than Clement Mansell.

CAROLYN: [scoffs] - And I ain't never asked

the system to solve my problems for me.

I don't want no part of playing their game.

- Oh, so you gonna play Mansell's?

Come on, you asked me for this.

- Last time I saw him, I didn't understand the man.

Now I do.

- Are you sure about that?

- All I know is I got an opportunity

to get what's coming to me...

and take Mansell down in the process,

all of which sounds a damn sight better

than sitting in some witness box

in open court.

[sniffs]

Nah. That ain't me, boo.

- What do you mean opportunity?

- You sure you want to hear it?

- Yean, I want to hear it. Please.

- Gun ain't the only thing in play

from the night that judge died.

- Do you mean his little black book?

[dramatic music]

That shit is real?

- Goddamn key to the city.

Enough dirt in that book

to make some real moves...

the kind of moves

that could put you in that judge's seat...

♪ ♪

If that's what you wanted.

♪ ♪

- [sighs]

Wading around in murky waters like this,

that's how you get bit.

♪ ♪

Are you sure you want to--

you want to fuck around with this guy?

You want to fuck around with this killer?

- I'm tired of waiting around for the right thing to happen.

♪ ♪

[dog barking] - Nice neighborhood.

She's a striver, it would appear.

RAYLAN: Recognize the car out front?

- I hope they don't fuck like they park.

They'd never get it in. [car door opens]

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where you going, cowboy?

- Stretch my legs, go for a walk.

What's it look like I'm doing? BRYL: You sure about this?

'Cause, again, the beauty of this

is we just wait till Mansell shows up.

Guns start blazing,

we stroll on in there, save the day.

Shazam.

- Yeah, I'm going in.

- Fuck me.

[dog barking]

RAYLAN: You want the front or the back?

BRYL: Since we're gonna fuck it all up anyway,

I'll take the front.

[barking continues]

♪ ♪

[Hina whimpers, screaming]

RAYLAN: U.S. Marshals. Hands up.

BRYL: Don't move, motherfucker!

[Hina whimpers]

RAYLAN: Lose it... right now, slow.

[barking continues, Hina crying]

Slow.

[Hina speaking Lao]

Okay.

Now, we're all gonna be real easy for a minute.

[Hina cries, shouts]

BRYL: God damn it!

Fuck!

Stop! Police! Drop the weapon.

[gunshots]

[barking continues]

Clear! Shots fired!

- Don't.

♪ ♪

[barking continues]

♪ ♪

- Holy shit.

- [speaking Albanian]

[shouting in Albanian]

♪ ♪

[shouts in Albanian]

♪ ♪

[screaming]

♪ ♪

- Night, Hector.

HECTOR: You get any dinner?

- I'll pick up some later. - All right.

[distant siren wailing]

[engine turning over]

[engine turning over]

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

[tires squealing]

♪ ♪

- [sighs]

♪ ♪

[line trilling]

Hey, it's Carolyn Wilder.

♪ ♪

[window squeaking]

- Gentlemen...

time to head back to the Venus, check in with the boss.

I think you'll find there's been a shake-up

in personnel.

But just so we're clear, whatever you've been told,

this particular lawyer is off-limits.

Run along, tell Toma Raylan Givens said so.

And if he's got a problem with that, he can come find me.

That's it. The conversation's over.

I say have a good night. You two drive away.

[siren wailing]

[shifter clacks]

- I have never in my life been more happy to see a cop.

- Just come from Sandy Stanton's place.

Caught two of them there

pulling her roommate's teeth out.

- Jesus.

RAYLAN: Bryl killed one of them.

Other one's downtown.

All happened a couple hours ago,

and already here they are at your office

waiting to follow you home.

- [sighs]

Well, I'm sure glad

that you sent them on their way.

- They'll be back.

Sooner or later, they'll find your house.

- Well, I can handle things at my house.

RAYLAN: You ain't gonna have to.

We'll have someone there keeping an eye out.

- I'm not asking you to do that.

RAYLAN: It ain't your decision.

And it ain't a favor for me to grant.

You understand, you are a value to this investigation.

- And what if I don't want somebody

sitting outside my house?

- Take it up with the judge, I guess.

- You're not hearing me, Marshal.

- Hey, I'm just doing my job.

- Well, you do what you have to do.

- Have a good night.

- There he is. Get in here.

Hey.

Yeah. SWEETY: This your new drip?

- Ah, you know, I wasn't too sure about it

when I put it on, but turns out the damn thing's comfy.

I might have to keep it.

Let me pour you one. We got to celebrate.

- Lofty perch you got here. [glasses clink]

- Yeah. Old Del's got questionable taste

in clothing and decor,

but, you know, he makes up for it in location and liquor.

[bottle thuds]

You could be up in a crib like this, Sweety--

man of your talent, stature.

Ought to be out living your dream

instead of counting pennies.

- You keep blowing smoke up my ass,

I'm gonna be burping that shit up.

- No smoke, my friend.

I want you to do this, simple as that.

I messed up. You got done wrong.

So let's do this thing the right way.

- Yeah?

How so? CLEMENT: You know this town.

You know the names in that judge's little book.

You know how we get at them,

how to let them know we mean business.

[chuckles] You're the full package, Sweety.

- So I've been told.

CLEMENT: So get on board, man.

Split this straight down the middle, 50-50.

Partners making dreams come true.

- This is a nice view.

- Yeah, me and Sandy, we were talking.

We get this job did,

we take a little extended vacation, maybe Aruba.

Oh. You and Trennell, y'all should come along.

- Aruba, huh?

- I mean, wherever, my dude, right?

Aruba? Jamaica?

[Sweety chuckles]

♪ Ooh, I want to take you ♪

♪ To Bermuda, Bahama ♪

♪ Come on, pretty mama ♪

♪ Key Largo, Montego ♪ - What the fuck, Clement?

CLEMENT: ♪ Baby, why don't we go down to Kokomo? ♪

♪ We'll get there fast, and then we'll take it slow ♪

♪ That's where ♪

♪ We want to go ♪ - Jesus F. Christ.

CLEMENT: ♪ Way down in Kokomo ♪

SINGER: ♪ Martinique, that Montserrat mystique ♪

♪ We'll put out to sea ♪

♪ And we'll perfect our chemistry ♪

♪ By and by, we'll defy ♪

♪ A little bit of gravity ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Afternoon delight ♪

♪ Cocktails and moonlit nights ♪

♪ That dreamy look in your eye ♪

♪ Give me a tropical contact high ♪

♪ Way down in Kokomo ♪

♪ Aruba, Jamaica, ooh, I want to take you ♪

♪ To Bermuda, Bahama, come on, pretty mama ♪

♪ Key Largo, Montego, baby, why don't we go ♪

♪ Ooh, I want to take you down to Kokomo ♪

♪ We'll get there fast ♪

♪ And then we'll take it slow ♪

♪ That's where we want to go ♪

♪ Way down in Kokomo ♪

♪ Port au Prince... ♪

CAROLYN: The whole Detroit Police

keeping an eye out...

and look here.

RAYLAN: Appears I drew the short straw.

- Oh-ho.

- I can phone in a replacement if you'd prefer.

Not bad.

CAROLYN: Hold on to that for me, sir.

Client gave it to me.

Thought it might be right about up your alley.

[liquor pouring]

- You figured right.

Ahh.

CAROLYN: I never get used to this.

RAYLAN: Goes down better if you put

a little sparkler in it and set it on fire.

CAROLYN: [chuckles]

Yeah. That's right.

Where is your kid?

You locked her up in a room

so you could skulk about the hood?

- She's back in Miami with her mother.

CAROLYN: Oh.

So you're free, unencumbered,

and yet you're spending it parked out here

by yourself.

RAYLAN: Well, you're with me now.

Not by myself anymore.

- Just so we're clear,

this does not change where we stand

vis-à-vis my client.

- Just so we're clear,

I didn't come here to talk about Clement Mansell.

CAROLYN: All right.

RAYLAN: Hmm.

- So you're just gonna stay out here all night...

by yourself?

- Hadn't planned that far ahead.

Kind of just...

playing it as it went.

- Shooting from the hip?

- Something like that.