All language subtitles for Archer.2009.S11E05.Best.Friends.1080p.HULU.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb_track3_[eng]

‐ So I said, "If a robot
can feel pain,

I'm gonna make him feel pain."

‐ I totally get that.

‐ Why am I carrying
all the bags?

‐ [clears throat]

[with British accent]
Welcome home, sir.

‐ Thank you,
polite intruder.

I'm gonna shoot you now.

‐ And you are welcome
to do so, sir.

I'm Aleister,
your new valet.

‐ Surprise!
[laughs]

We picked him for you
after a trial by fire.

And lasers.

‐ And now these bags
are his problem.

‐ You are aware
that all my other valets

were spectacular failures,
right?

‐ Two are still
in the hospital.

‐ One. They moved Cornelius
to a hospice.

‐ Perhaps a drink
will help us break the ice.

‐ A daiquiri?

Uh, one chance to impress,

and you're going
with the drink

of sad writers
and stupid teenagers?

Holy shit.
That is good.

‐ Good?
I'd swim in this.

‐ I'll fill the tub.
‐ And then fill me.

With drinks!

Or, you know, whatever.

‐ Will there be
anything else, sir?

‐ Do you know
who you're replacing?

Woodhouse, the greatest,
most subservient valet

to ever shuffle his weary frame
across this planet.

Do you really think you
can outshine him

in being abused by me?

‐ I welcome
your evaluation, sir.

‐ Okay, favorite grade
of cashmere?

‐ Grade A
sheared Mongolian goat.

‐ How would you press
a tweed suit?

‐ I'd press it
into a trash can.

‐ How should I rub sand
into your eyes

for maximum discomfort?

‐ Excellent question, sir.

Start coarse,
moving to finer grits,

ending with the black sands
of Vík í Myrdal, Iceland.

‐ Dang.
Beach knowledge.

‐ Carol, don't interrupt
the test.

Time for the final exam:
a gentlemen's duel.

‐ Really feels like
you're moving the goalposts.

[chuckles]
‐ I'll do my best, sir.

‐ Ha!
Parry, parry, riposte!

‐ Capital defense.
[both grunt]

‐ Sloppy balestra.
You call that a coupé?

‐ No, I call it a coulé.

‐ Ha, touché.
And touché.

You guys, look!
It's like we're dancing.

‐ Yeah, weird.

[dramatic music]

[knee cracks]
[Archer groans]

‐ [gasps]

Ha!

‐ Wow.
Aleister, you're hired.

‐ Thank you, sir.

You would've had me
if it had not been for the leg.

I can suggest
some rehabilitation exercises.

‐ I'd...

I'd like that.

‐ Should we leave?

‐ [inhales]
I'm staying.

[main title theme]

♪ ♪

‐ Y'all, my cover was blown.

I made it into the jungle,

but it's only a matter of time
before my‐‐

‐ Attention.
Attention, please.

‐ Archer, come on!
‐ What the shit?

‐ Come on.
It was just getting good.

‐ What,
Ray dying in Africa?

‐ For the love of God,
Cheryl, call Ray back.

‐ Now?

Ugh, fine.

‐ Good, now back to me‐‐

‐ Is anyone else
worried about Ray?

‐ Is anyone else
worried about how Cyril

is constantly
in the office?

‐ Hey, I broke my arm
on a mission‐‐

‐ I'll break the other one

if you don't shut up
for my announcement.

Okay, I found the valet
who will serve me until my,

or more likely his, death.

‐ Wait, so you're not looking
for a valet anymore?

[clicks tongue]
Excuse me.

[dramatic music]

Gentlemen,
it's been an honor.

[water flushing]

‐ He cleans like ten valets,

he rearranged my entire closet
in a way that makes sense,

and I made him eat a bag
of potting soil as a test

and he was just like...

[as Aleister]
Shall I open another bag, sir?

‐ [laughs]
What is that accent?

‐ It sounds like Boston to me.
‐ Or a speech impediment.

‐ It's a normal British voice,
all right?

I don't do it that well.

[normal voice] Aleister,
get in here and show them

your normal British voice.

‐ Sir.
‐ That's my guy!

Guy, gang.
Gang, guy.

Don't bother trying
to look him in the eye.

He's an expert
at averting his gaze.

Aleister, avert.

‐ And can we revert to Ray?
Seriously, is he okay?

‐ Probably.
‐ Not.

‐ For your leg, sir.

I brought your rehabilitation
bands to the office

since I know you'll lose
all interest at home.

‐ He knows my foibles.

‐ There's about 30 guys.

They got these crazy
fish boning knives‐‐

‐ Damn it, Sterling!
‐ Oh, I forgot the best part.

Aleister can make
Eggs Woodhouse.

‐ Maybe we should focus on Ray
being gutted in the jungle.

‐ Maybe we should focus on your
obvious jealousy of Aleister.

[beanbag fires]
‐ [grunts]

‐ Wow. I honestly didn't know
it could do that.

‐ I took the liberty of
installing the beanbag round

as a nonlethal
office alternative.

‐ Ha‐ha!
Nonlethal violence

is my second favorite kind!

‐ Enough!
Cyril, go rescue Ray.

His legs are valuable tech.

‐ Oh, I would love to fight
30 men with weird knives,

but, gosh darn it,
I'm out of commission.

‐ Yeah, when did you
break your arm?

‐ On the last mission?
‐ No, I was on that mission.

‐ I broke it right at the end,
after you finished missioning.

‐ Fine.
Sterling, go rescue Ray.

‐ Not possible, Mother.
I'm still breaking in Aleister.

The first two weeks are crucial
for establishing dominance.

‐ Give me the jet
and I'll rescue him.

‐ Done.

‐ And I never even
named a beneficiary

on my life insurance.

‐ So more recovery
than rescue.

‐ At least that beach
behind him looks nice.

‐ God, does no one
in this office know

how to finish a sandwich?

‐ It would be my pleasure

to clean out
your refrigerator, ma'am.

‐ Phrasing?

‐ Oh, Aleister.
Nice to see you again.

‐ Please, allow me.

‐ No, I couldn't.
‐ Really?

You don't strike me as a woman
who can't do things.

‐ Oh, Aleister!
[giggles]

You're bad.

‐ Am I interrupting something?

‐ I'm honestly not sure.

‐ Not at all, sir.

Would you like to squeeze
this lemon into my eyes?

‐ Uh, love where your head's
at Aleister, but later.

Right now, I need you
to reload my cane.

‐ Right away, sir.
Ma'am, a pleasure.

‐ Likewise.
In terms of pleasure.

‐ Okay, Mother,

I'll only ask this incredibly
traumatic question once.

Are you into Aleister?

‐ Don't be absurd.
He's your valet.

And yes, he's handsome

and I'm a woman
with powerful needs‐‐

‐ Mother, it's okay.
Stop. I mean, gross.

But you're right.
The man is perfect.

You'd have to be insane
not to want him to‐‐

‐ Clean out
your refrigerator?

Pam: Absolutely.
Look at that grip.

He could twist a pineapple
in half.

‐ But he's a gross servant
and it's totally forbidden.

[whispering]
Is how I'd get things going.

‐ Can I help you, ladies?

‐ Just keep doing
what you're doing, Aleister.

[keyboard clacking]

Lana: Since you're not going
on the mission,

you can handle my paperwork.

‐ But this is, like,
eight missions' worth.

‐ Fine, you can go get stabbed
in a jungle.

‐ It'll be done
when you're back.

But let it be known
that I'm not happy about it.

[intercom beeps]
‐ Lana to the situation room.

If you're free.

‐ Oh, office work.
Can't get hurt by you.

[groans]

‐ Sorry.
Just testing the range.

Aleister, reload me.
‐ Don't reload him.

[both grunting]

‐ Holy shit, Aleister.
What was that?

‐ A technique
from my old employer,

General Bernard Montgomery.

‐ You knew the Spartan General?

‐ [laughs]
Old Monty, yes.

He also enjoyed his Manhattans.

Will you take yours
in your office, sir?

‐ Oh, I don't have an office.

I used to,
but it just kept blowing up.

‐ You do now.

I took the liberty

of repurposing
an unused storage space,

with your mother's approval,
of course.

‐ Seriously?
Cyril, did you just hear that?

I have an office!
Cyril, Cyril, Cyril!

‐ What?!
‐ I have an office.

Krieger: In Fiji.

‐ So?

‐ So what is Ray's
tracking chip

doing in the Pacific

if his body is dying
in an African jungle?

‐ I don't know.
Maybe they removed the chip.

‐ Well, that's
what I thought too.

But his secret second tracker
is also in Fiji,

and that can't be removed
without killing the host.

‐ What?
‐ I mean, maybe someone can.

I certainly can't.

Anyway, I thought
I'd tell Ms. Archer.

‐ No, no, no, no.
Uh, don't worry about it.

‐ Don't worry
about Ray's trackers

being on the opposite side
of the world

from where we think he is?

‐ Can you keep a secret?

‐ Did an entire breed
of Chilean llamas

go extinct two months ago?

‐ I...don't know?

‐ Exactly!

Archer: [cackling]

What I always wanted.

Minus the bookshelf.

Seems like
a missed opportunity.

‐ In that case, you might enjoy

"Mr. Boston's Bartender Guide."

‐ [laughs]
It's whimsically practical!

Uh, forget about the lemon
going in your eyes.

Put it in the cocktail.

I'm gonna go get Cyril

so he can see how much
his office sucks next to mine.

‐ Very good, sir.

‐ Oh, and hey...

I love you, Aleister.

‐ And I you, sir.

[jazzy music]

[eerie music]

I have infiltrated the agency
and achieved absolute trust.

The target will be dead
in 24 hours.

♪ ♪

‐ Hello, Aleister.

Did you really think
you could get away with it?

‐ Sir?
‐ You've got a secret.

You added something incredible
to my Eggs Woodhouse!

‐ That would be
the Hungarian paprika, sir.

For an extra kick.

‐ Ha!
An amazing kick!

All right, I'm off
to the office

now that it's got
all the good booze.

‐ Uh, sir, I thought I might
prepare my specialty tonight,

Steak Aleister.

If you make it home.

‐ Oh, I'll be here.

And if I'm not, heh,
I'm probably dead.

‐ Oh. [laughs]
Very good, sir.

[elevator bell dings]
‐ His smile,

it just lights up my whole day.

Hey, do you like my tie?
Aleister picked it.

‐ So is it gonna shoot me
or just electrocute me?

‐ Not everything
is about you, Cyril.

‐ I deserve safety
in my workplace.

[explosion booms]
[Cyril yelps]

Was that an explosion?

‐ Yeah, of my schedule.

I bet Aleister is good
at elevator repair.

‐ The phone's dead.
‐ The elevator's broken.

‐ But the phone runs
on a separate line.

It's part of the intricate
series of fail‐safes

built into all
modern elevators.

[gasps]
This is sabotage!

[metallic clattering]
[shrieks]

‐ Yeah, again,
of my schedule.

[grunts]

‐ Is the primary driving rope

still threaded
through the car sheave?

‐ Oh, my God.
Cool it, Alexander Miles.

‐ I'm just trying
to save our lives.

‐ Well, try it
without showing off.

‐ Is the elevator cable okay?

‐ Was that so hard?

Oh, also...no.

Jump or die in a box, Cyril.

‐ Jeezy Pete.
[grunts]

[elevator crashes]

[elevator bell dings]

‐ Oh, crap.
We're only on the third floor?

‐ Lost them
over the waterfall,

but my left leg
is all messed up, and I...

Lana: Ray.
‐ Just spent three hours...

Lana: Ray!
‐ In a spider‐filled ditch.

Lana: Ray!
‐ What?

‐ Krieger knows.

‐ Oh.
[slurping]

[tropical music]

So when are you guys
getting here?

‐ ETA at the resort
is six hours.

‐ I'll keep the mais tied
for you.

And, lady, you can't just
drop a towel on a chair

and be gone for hours.

‐ A fake rescue mission
as cover for a secret vacation.

It's just like
the good old days.

‐ And I hate it.
But, God, I need a break.

Ever since Archer came back,

things have been...[sighs]
weird with Robert.

‐ Aw, trouble
in billionaire‐adise?

‐ No‐‐hey, no!
I love being married.

‐ It's just that‐‐

‐ It's just he's
constantly telling me

how to handle Archer,
and I'm like,

"I know how to handle Archer,
buddy, okay?

"I handled him for years
before I met you,

"and maybe, just maybe, I want
to complain about the guy

without you trying to fix it!"

‐ So this place
has bungalows?

‐ And we have
to keep it a secret.

Pam: [grunts]
Cheryl: Ow!

‐ Hey, Lana.
‐ Keep what a secret?

‐ [sighs]
The obvious sabotage.

‐ Freak accident.

Elevators kill 27 people
a year, Cyril.

That's more than fireworks.

‐ You seriously believe
that there was a spontaneous

simultaneous failure of
the primary suspension cable,

the traveling cable,
the safety catch,

and the car roller guides?

‐ Yes?

‐ There's explosive residue
on the cables, Archer!

‐ It's a spy agency.

There's explosive residue
on the coffeepot.

Cyril:
Okay, what's more likely,

that this was a freak accident

or that someone wants to kill
the world's most annoying spy?

‐ No one's trying to kill me.

Also, rude people
don't get to sit

in my fancy new guest chair.

Move.

Whoa!
[glass shatters]

‐ Archer!

‐ I think someone's
trying to kill me.

Lana:
What the hell are you doing?

‐ We couldn't let you
do this alone.

If Ray's in trouble, I'm ready
to bust some coconuts.

‐ And I can scream so loud,
my own ears bleed.

Watch.
[inhales]

‐ No, nope.
Uh, I appreciate the offer.

This mission,
it's just too dangerous.

Oh, God, I just‐‐
I hope Ray doesn't die

during the time we waste
taking you back.

‐ Bula bula!

Hey, do y'all want
the tropical spa package?

'Cause I gotta book that
in advaaance...

of the enemy closing in
on my position!

‐ Too dangerous?

‐ Hey, danger takes many forms.

‐ We thought Ray
was maybe dead!

‐ Am I still turning
the plane around?

‐ Hell no.

Sea salt scrubs
and coconut cocktails!

Cyril:
How can you be shopping?

You nearly died!

And if you hadn't
taken the seat,

I probably would have died!

‐ Glass half full, my ruined
pants give me an excuse

to buy me and Aleister
matching suits.

I wonder what color he wants.

‐ We shouldn't even be out
in public.

We're too exposed.

‐ Cyril, no one tries three
assassinations in one day.

It's unprofessional.
Aleister?

‐ Yes, sir?

‐ I was wondering
about your suit preference

vis‐à‐vis color.

Aleister:
Gun to my head, sir,

my ideal suit is gray,

single‐vent,
three‐button.

‐ Hey, man.
That's a great answer.

‐ Thank you.
Good‐bye, sir.

[gunshot]

[horn honks]

Archer: Get down!
Cyril: [grunts]

[truck crashing,
glass shattering]

[people clamoring]
Cyril: Huh, wha‐‐

You said no one attempts
an assassination

three times in one day!

‐ Aleister, are you okay?
[gunshots]

It sounds like you're nearby.
Are you in danger?

[gunshot]

‐ What if Aleister
is the danger?

‐ Aleister?
Where are you right now?

[dial tone hums]

‐ Look, it's great
that Archer's awake.

‐ Absolutely.
‐ Hated that coma.

‐ But...
‐ Now when I look at him,

I see a fragile baby bird.

‐ First I repressed
my violent urges,

and now they're out again?

Pick a lane,
Cheryl or Carol!

‐ And I flushed
four viable men today.

And I'm not ready
to talk about it.

‐ And he is getting in the way

of my great relationship
with Robert.

Okay, fine it's not great.

But sometimes you fake it
till you make it.

‐ Like how Aleister
is pretending

to be Archer's butler
so he can kill him?

[laughter]

‐ In her defense, she thinks
all butlers are murderers.

[tense music]

‐ Aleister,
I'm home.

‐ Welcome back, sir.
I've been expecting you.

‐ Yes, I expect you have.
My very loyal valet.

‐ I took the liberty
of preparing an early meal

to calm your nerves.

Steak Aleister.
Archer: Wow.

A delicious meal,
prepared fully out of my sight.

Perhaps, uh, you'd like
to take the first bite.

‐ Thank you, sir,
but it wouldn't be proper.

‐ Oh, Aleister, it's proper
if I say it is.

‐ Indeed, sir.

♪ ♪

Mmm, excellent.

And now you, sir,

before it gets cold.

Terrible thing, that shooting
at the haberdashery.

‐ Mm, nothing
I couldn't handle.

But I do have
one small concern.

‐ And what's that, sir?

‐ I never told you
I was in the haberdashery.

[suspenseful music]

[gunshots]

[gun clicks]

♪ ♪

Damn it!
You took my secret shotgun?

And had this floor waxed.
[shotgun cocking]

Wow, looks crazy shiny.

[gunshots]

♪ ♪

Oh, you know me so well.
I hate it.

‐ Just doing my job, sir.

[knee cracks]
‐ [groans]

‐ You haven't been doing
your rehabilitation exercises.

Pity.

‐ Good thing I have my cane.

How ironic, defeated by
the very beanbag round

I made you reload.

[cane clicks]
Aleister: Apologies, sir.

It seems I forgot
to reload that round.

Archer: [grunts]

[eerie music]

‐ Damn it.
Why am I not dead?

First you break my heart,

and now you don't even have
the decency to kill me quickly?

Frankly, Aleister,
it's very rude.

‐ I beg your pardon, sir,
but I'm not here to kill you.

I'm here to kill
the world's greatest spy.

‐ Yeah, I know.
Me, Sterling Archer.

Nice to meet slash be killed
by you.

‐ I wasn't referring to you.

♪ ♪

Cyril:
So is it gonna shoot me

or just electrocute me?

There's explosive residue
on the cables, Archer!

Archer: I was wondering
about your suit preference

vis‐à‐vis color.

Cyril Figgis?
‐ The very same.

He's managed to elude my more
subtle efforts all morning.

He's quite cunning.
‐ Cyril Figgis?

The guy I sometimes
stab by accident?

‐ Who I intend
to stab on purpose

once he comes here
to rescue you.

‐ Wait, I'm Cyril bait?
‐ Indeed you are.

He was top agent
during your coma.

He won't let you die.

‐ Let me explain
something, Aleister.

I create bait,
I use bait,

and yes, sometimes
I accidentally shoot bait.

But I will never be bait
for Cyril goddamn Figgis.

‐ [grunts, groans]

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

And the Steak Aleister
was just adequate.

Whoo‐hoo!
Zip liiiine!

Cyril: Boom goes the personnel
health‐care form.

I'd like to see
a regular field agent

fill these out in triplicate.

Archer: Cyriiiiil!
‐ Archer. [chuckles nervously]

What are you doing here
after normal business hours?

‐ I'm here
during showdown hour.

‐ Oh, God, is this
an honor thing?

I'll just say
you have more honor.

‐ No, I need to defeat you
in battle

to prove
I'm the world's best spy

so Aleister will try
and kill me.

‐ Aha, so your valet
is trying to kill you.

‐ Well, right now,
he's trying to kill you.

‐ What?

‐ But after I shoot you,
he'll try to kill me.

Keep up, Cyril.
Go get a weapon.

I've got a gun,
so probably a gun.

‐ I'm not gonna shoot you.
‐ Why not?

‐ For one thing, it's wrong.
Also, you've got a bad leg.

[gunshot]

‐ Cyril, you're making
this more annoying

than it needs to be.

Cyril:
So just don't shoot me!

‐ If I don't,
Aleister will.

Wouldn't you rather get shot
by someone you know,

like me?

‐ Is there
a no shooting option?

‐ Unfortunately, no.
[gunshot]

‐ Pretty sure
shooting a coworker

is an HR violation.

[screams]

‐ [laughs]

Cyril, we were in this elevator

when it exploded,
like, two hours ago.

How do you forget that?

Hey, I thought
you broke your arm.

‐ Well, I didn't.

I just wanted
to take a break from missions,

and I thought I had to hide it.

‐ Good instinct.
Cyril: But you know what?

I was good enough in the field

that some assassin thinks
I'm the world's best spy,

which means I can do your job
and my office job.

And there's no shame
in choosing the office.

‐ Hmm, can we still say
that I beat you?

‐ I mean, technically
this shaft beat me.

‐ Phrasing.
‐ You win!

‐ Good, which means I am
officially the world's best‐‐

[gunshot]
Ow!

‐ But not for long.

Last words
before I kill you both?

‐ Both?
But he beat me.

‐ Making me
the world's best spy.

‐ Field spy.
I'm the top office spy.

‐ Sure.
I don't care about that.

‐ Killing you both
seems easiest.

‐ Too bad I'm wearing
a bulletproof vest.

‐ Too bad I removed
all the armor plating.

‐ Oh, damn.
That is too bad.

Wait, just one question.
Why use me to get to Cyril?

‐ Why?
Because you're best friends.

‐ What?
‐ Aww.

‐ I can't stand this guy.

‐ You spend hours a day
with him.

‐ True.
‐ We work together.

‐ You talk about him
more than anyone else.

‐ [gasps]
Really?

‐ To criticize
how stupid he is.

‐ Oh, please.

He was the first person
you told about your new office.

‐ Wow, you told me first?
‐ To spite you.

‐ We are best friends.
‐ Maybe I'm your best friend.

You're my worst...stranger.

‐ It's a classic
odd couple fight.

‐ Okay, it's one thing to say
I'm not the world's best spy.

But saying
I'm Cyril's best friend

is an insult
that will not stand.

‐ That's a bit hurtful.

‐ You realize you've brought
a cane to a gunfight?

‐ I realize shooting
an unarmed guy

would make you a huge loser.

‐ Touché.

[sword shings]

both: Cool.

‐ Stop it.
We're not friends.

If you can kill me,
then you can kill Cyril.

‐ What? Wait, he doesn't
have that power.

‐ Very good, sir.

‐ You made me believe
I could love a valet again

and then besmirched
Woodhouse's memory.

You besmirched!

‐ It was a job, sir.
‐ Not to me!

‐ Not my concern.

♪ ♪

‐ [groans]

♪ ♪

‐ Well, you guys seem busy,
and I've got paperwork, so...

‐ It can wait!
I'm sorry, sir.

Perhaps you should
have kept up

with those
rehabilitation exercises.

‐ Oh, but I did.

[grunts]

Aleister: [gasps]

[grunts]
[fabric tears]

Well driven, sir.

‐ God damn it.
It didn't have to be this way.

‐ It did.

But it wasn't
just a job for me.

It was...a pleasure.

‐ We'll always have
my reorganized closet.

‐ Yes, and if you'd like,

I can recommend another...

[groans] valet.

‐ Shh.
No, I'm done with valets.

Because no one
will ever top you.

And that Steak Aleister,
i‐it wasn't just adequate.

[sobs]
It was goddamn perfect.

Good‐bye, Aleister.
‐ [grunts]

‐ [crying]
You‐‐you taught...

you taught me to love again!

‐ Where the hell
is everybody?

Pam:
Holy crap.

[tropical music]
Can we just live here?

‐ [laughing]
Yeah!

What's their
extradition policy?

‐ Yeah, it's pretty,
but a burger

costs, like,
a million dollars.

‐ I'll take four.
‐ Oh, shut up.

‐ And I'll take
the big bedroom.

Malory:
Oh, I'm sorry.

[dramatic music]

The big bedroom
is already taken.

♪ ♪

‐ Made in Georgia.