All language subtitles for NCIS.New.Orleans.S01E03.Breaking.Brig.1080p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-CtrlHD.CHI

♪ Well, there ain't
pleasing you ♪

♪ Whoo-hoo-hoo ♪

♪ Whoa-oa-oa ♪

♪ Angel flirting
with the dark side ♪

♪ The devil's floating
in the glass ♪

(talking, squealing)
Guys, chill.

I can't concentrate.

Totes buzz kill...

Selfie time!

Hash-tag NOLA-bound!

Holy crap!

(tires squealing)

(screaming)

Oh, my God...

(grunting)

(grunts)

Um...

guys...
Uh...

♪ NCIS:New Orleans 1x03 ♪
Breaking Brig
Original Air Date on October 7, 2014

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪

♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪

♪ How, how, how, how ♪

♪ Hey, hey ♪

♪ You gotta come on. ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Punch buggy!
Hey!

No punch backs.
No what?

Come on, everybody
knows Punch Buggy.

Right, King?

We called it Slug Bug.

Me and my brother,
we used to play

for hours in the car.

By the time we got to the lake,

our skin were
all kind of black and blue.

What about you, Brody?

What'd your family
do on car trips?

In our family, road trips
meant getting dumped off

at boarding school
every September.

(whistles)
That's kind of...

...depressing, I know.
Moving on.

(phone ringing)

BRODY:
Linda.

Mm-hmm.

(phone continues ringing)
Are... are you gonna...

answer?

Just gonna let it
go to voicemail.

She wants me to...

go see another
couples therapist with her.

Well, that's great
y'all keep working on things.

Guessing you're not here

to settle up your poker tab,
Agent Pride.

Considering you robbed
me blind last time?

Not a chance,
Lieutenant.

You were in
over your head.

Just like, uh, Agent Lasalle was

the last time we went drinking.

I had a cold.
Hi, I'm Addie Watkins.

SECO out of Naval Air
Station, New Orleans.

Special Agent Meredith Brody.

Catch us up, Addie.

Armored transport bus

carrying four
Naval Brig detainees

from New Orleans
to Charleston

crossed over the
double yellow

until point of impact.

Rolled once...

...landed here.

Marshals are still sifting
through the wreckage,

but, so far,
we have three dead,

three unaccounted for.

We're waiting for the prison
manifest to confirm names.

Any witnesses?

The girls were making a
pilgrimage to New Orleans

when the bus nearly
hit them head-on.

Bourbon Street or bust.
Bust, clearly.

ADDIE:
They pull over to see

if they could help,
that's when the prisoners

jacked their car and took off.

Because of the time-sensitive
nature of this case,

Lieutenant Watkins is here

to expedite anything
we may need from the Navy.

Y'all just let me know
what you need,

I'll get it done.

Excuse me.

Okay, one of you go over there

and take statements
from the young ladies, please.

All you, Lasalle.

Guess I'll take
for the team.

Sweet Loretta...

what is the story,
morning glory?

Story is three dead.

Guards were shot at close range.

Prisoners COD is unclear.

Holster empty.

Yeah, it's likely
they were killed

with one of their own weapons.

So that means, likely,

that our escapees are armed.

All right.

Do a thorough sweep,

top to bottom,

before it gets hauled off site.

Prison manifest,
hot off the press.

According to this,
our three escapees

are Lieutenant Ted Nash,

Seaman Recruit
Lavon Dalton...

...and Matt S. O'Feeney.

BRODY: Why are you so focused
on that last name?

Who's Matt S. O'Feeney?

He's an anagram,

is who he is.

Matt S. O'Feeney

Rearrange the letters...

“enemy of state.”

Glad to see you're still
doing the morning crosswords.

Every day, Gibbs.
Keeps me spry.

VANCE:
So SECNAV just confirmed:

Matt S. O'Feeney is none other
than Dmitry Babakov.

The arms dealer?

That's one of his
many talents.

Smuggling, extortion,

human trafficking,
espionage.

Gibbs and his been tracking Babakov

in conjunction with the CIA

and Homeland Security
for a year.

Three weeks ago,
Babakov was captured

in a top-secret raid off
the west coast of Africa.

VANCE: We placed Babakov aboard
the U.S.S. Birmingham

for transport to New Orleans.

We then put him
on an armored bus

headed to Navconbrig Charleston,
to await sentencing.

Unfortunately, that trip
got cut a little short.

We'll make it right
for you, brother.

VANCE:
Pride...

Babakov's capture of

offered a rare opportunity
for the DOD

to gain insight
into a vast

Bring him in alive.

Alright.

We got three escaped convicts,
on the loose.

All certified Navy-issue.

Agent Gibbs is coordinating
with interagency

to get us the most up to date
information on our fugitives.

Addie, here, is gonna
tell us what we know.

OK.

Top priority is Dimitry Babakov,

international concierge
to the scum of the earth.

Highly educated and
well-connected,

Babakov brokers

black market goods
to the highest bidder.

We're talking
weapons, narcotics,

information...
even people.

Real Renaissance man, huh?

One whose
clientele includes

some of this
country's biggest

national security threats.
Hard to believe

someone could pull off
that escape on their own.

Guessing he got help from
one of his fellow jumpsuits.

Which brings us to...

Seaman Recruit Lavon Dalton.

Dalton enlisted J-O-M

after a handful of
brushes with the law.

It seems the Navy didn't
straighten Lavon out much.

After several
earlier infractions,

Dalton was most
recently thrown

into the Birmingham brig

for striking
a commanding officer.

ADDIE:
Last, but not least...

Lieutenant Ted Nash.

Two weeks ago,

Nash was a hard-working
naval architect

in the shipyards at Pascagoula.

Then he took liberty
here in New Orleans,

got into an ugly
bar fight,

landed himself in jail.

Nash's service
record is pristine.

The fight was his
first offense.

He was looking at a fraction
of the time the others were.

And yet he ran. Why?

We got a BOLO out on

our stolen convertible,
checkpoints at

every county and parish line,

eyes and ears on all
our fugitives' contacts.

Chris and Brody...

head over to Navy Landing,

canvass the Birmingham,

find out everything you can

on Babakov and Dalton.

Meantime, Addie...

speak to your contacts
at the shipyard.

Get a run-down on Nash.

Go. Learn.

But most of all, be smart.

Death toll is three.

Let's not make it
climb any higher.

GARLAND: Prisoner A was brought
aboard the vessel

six days ago,

after capture in
a classified land raid.

Prisoner A is Babakov?

It's common protocol not
to address prisoners by name

for security
clearance reasons.

Each morning, the prisoner
was escorted to interrogation

by two Masters-at-Arms.

Afterwards, he was escorted
back to this cell

where he was served his meal

before retiring
to bed for the night.

Just got a single
bed here, so...

no pillow talk?
Chit-chat?

BRODY:
We just want to make sure

Babakov didn't have any contact

with any of his neighbors.

I assure you, he did not.

The prisoner was kept
in isolation

from all other detainees.

LASALLE:
Houston, we have a problem.

Lasalle?

Where did you go?

So much for full isolation.

Who was held in this cell?

Prisoner B--

Seaman Recruit Lavon Dalton.

It's a cozy joint
to plot an escape.

Afternoon Loretta.

Hey.
Sebastian.

Tell me something interesting.

SEBASTIAN: Well, the human
body produces

25 million new cells
each second.

Okay.

That was interesting.

Now, how about
somethin?

Oh, well, you didn't say that.

It's important to be
linguistically specific.

WADE:
The driver and the guard

were shot point blank.

Ballistics confirms
that the bullets

came from
the guard's M11.

The prisoner, on the
other hand, was strangled.

Not an easy feat,
given his size.

Babakov doesn't weigh
more than 140 soaking wet.

Nash isn't much bigger.

Which means the only escapee
with the physical capacity

to strangle the victim would
be Lavon “The Levee” Dalton.

I gave Dalton

a pro wrestling moniker.

On account of his size,

which is ample.

So you think Dalton
killed the prisoner?

Hmm, it's possible,
but I'll know more

when I complete
my virtual crash reconstruction,

using evidence culled
from the bus wreckage.

Why they pay you
the big bu

Well, not exactly
Daddy War-bucks.

Then again, better than a
barista at Star... bucks.

Just take the compliment, kid.
Yeah, sure.

BRODY: You understand
Lieutenant Nash is on the loose.

I can't believe Ted escaped.

So, your fiancé
hasn't contacted you?

Ex...

fiancé.

Ted and I broke it off
last month.

I'm sorry to hear that.
Me, too.

He was everything
I was looking for.

Like, you know how people
say the best way

to test a relationship
is to travel together?

First year we were together,

we took this crazy trip
to Europe.

Six countries in three weeks.

Sounds amazing.

Best time of my life.

Until we got back.

Guess it was
the being at home part

we weren't great at.

How so?

Ted had major trust issues.

I think it came from being

an army brat--
his family moved around

a ton until his dad got
permanently stationed

in Hong Kong, when he was 13.

If Ted tries to reach out,
we need to know, okay?

I hope he does 'cause...
I'd really like

to tell him
I'm still here for him.

No matter what.

Focus, kids. 24 hours in,

we still got close to nothing.

SEBASTIAN: Welcome, cinephiles.
Please take your seats.

Show's about to begin.

No popcorn?
No thank you.

So, I've simulated
the accident

down to pre-impact speeds,

post-impact movement,

as well as taking into
account the velocity-impact

time model of the driver's

crash avoidance maneuver.

Make sense?

Good. So...

here is our armored bus

driving northbound on the road.

Drifts into
the next lane,

narrowly missing a convertible
full of buxom beauties.

BRODY:
Bikinis?

An interesting touch.

Well, an artist must allow

for indulgences.

I can appreciate that.
So...

adding into the equation
the notion

that Babakov and Dalton had

the ability to communicate
in the brig

as well as the physical evidence
that Dalton had the power

necessary to strangle
the prisoner,

we recreate the moments
before the crash.

Dalton begins
strangling the prisoner,

intentionally drawing
the attention of the guard,

who is lured
from his secure environ,

oh, only to be ambushed

Babakov,

who is stealthily lying in wait.

And spoiler alert:
we know how that story ends.

Babakov and Dalton (cell phone rings)
were partners in crime.

Pride.

Got it. Thanks.

BOLO on the convertible
we put out--

got a hit in Pearl River.

Let's go.

Good work, Sebastian.
Thanks, Sebastian.

Local farmhand
heard shots fired.

They killed the trooper.

We set up a perimeter,

but so far, there's
no movement inside.

PRIDE:
NCIS!

Federal agents!

(thud nearby)

(boy crying quietly)

Hey, kiddo.

It's all right, kiddo.

Okay, stand down, everyone.

You're safe.

It's okay.

How you doing, Remy?

Got a hold of your mom
at the diner.

She's on her way.

She's gonna be mad.

She told me
not to come here.

She said it was dangerous.

Probably right.

I was setting up my platoons

when I heard shouting.

Then shots.

PRIDE: I imagine
that was scary.

I hid in the cupboard.

But the voices,
they got closer.

How many were there?

Two.

One of them sounded
a little funny.

Funny... funny how?

PRIDE:
Like a, like an accent?

Like, someone from
a different country?

Can you remember
anything you heard?

Look, I... I get it, kiddo.

I hate talking about
scary stuff, too.

Yeah, no. It's true.

Even big guys like
me get spooked.

But the thing is,
once I do talk about it,

I always end up
feeling better.

They kept talking about a grave.

A grave?

PRIDE:
Are-are you sure?

They were arguing
about how long

it would take to make it.

Remy... those men...

they're never gonna hurt you.

And-and what you
just told me...

is gonna help me make sure that
they never hurt anyone again.

You're one of us now, kiddo.

WOMAN:
Oh, Remy!

I was worried sick about you.

Are you okay?
Mm-hmm.

You sure?

Oh.

Come on, baby,
let's go, let's go.

Let's go, baby.

We looked, we haven't found
anything resembling a grave.

Didn't show much
respect for the dead

when it came to that trooper.

It could've been a code.

Maybe a misinterpreted
foreign language?

Let's run
a forensic language test,

cross-referenced with any
languages Babakov speaks.

All right.

What's the latest?

Kid places two men
in the cabin.

One with an accent.

That puts Babakov there.

Yeah, and based
on what we know,

it's likely Dalton
was with him.

That leaves Nash in the wind.

Trooper man got a shot off.

Which means one of them
might be injured.

We should sweep
the cabin for blood.

And put every hospital

within three parishes on alert.

Trooper's time of death
puts our fugitives

less than four miles away,
if traveling on foot.

And if one of them's injured,

that's not helping with
their ground speed.

Well, the nearest paved road's
five miles north.

We cut that off,
we can tighten the net.

Any other way out?

(train horn blows in distance)
Canal, lake?

Train?

Get me schedules of every
train that comes through here--

origin, destination...

surveillance footage
from every station.

You got it.

Lavon Dalton's sister
in Mobile just got

a text saying “On my way.”

Kicker is
the phone number belongs

to the dead prison guard.

Unless she was
talking to a ghost,

our boy Lavon's
headed back to 'Bama.

I bid you
good night, Loretta.

Ah, good,
you're still here.

Uh, actually, I'm not here.

I'm just on my way out
for a date.

Oh.

Well, not a date, per Se.

More like a casual drink.

But I've run the numbers
and found that one libation

does have a strong
statistical possibility

of evolving
into a full-fledged meal.

Which then, of course, would
constitute an actual date.

Well, I'm glad to see you're
not over-thinking it, dear.

So how can I help?

Great.

Our prisoner was
strangled to death.

Mm-hmm.
He also has

significant
large intestine damage...

yet has no history

of prior stomach issues.

Then...

there's our poor
state trooper here.

Bullet to the heart,
and yet he, too,

has significant large
intestine damage.

How do two men with

no prior history
of stomach issues,

killed in completely
different manners,

end up with the same symptoms?

I'm gathering that this is
not a rhetorical question?

One that could wait
until after my drink

that could possibly
turn into a date?

Sebastian...

have you ever considered

the statistical possibilities

of playing hard to get?

Ah... you smell that?

Burnt rubber and...

a little skunk?

Fresh-cut Bermuda
and long-leaf pine.

Now, that's home.

Don't you think
you're romanticizing

this “sweet home Alabama” thing,
just a little?

No, not romanticizing.

Appreciating.

Which is something you're
clearly not good at doing.

What's that supposed to mean?

Well, it means

you gotta stay somewhere
long enough to get hooked.

I mean, the past seven years
you've moved, what, four times?

Well, Cedar Rapids
was too small.

And St. Paul was freezing.

And Chicago was
completely congested.

Did you ever consider you got
your criteria wrong, Brody?

Home isn't the place,
it's the people.

(phone chimes)

Got another hit.

The eyes we put
on Lavon's sister report

she's on the move and headed
toward Mobile Memorial Hospital.

If Babakov or Dalton
are injured,

they might be heading for help.

Let's go give them
a real special welcome.

(engine revving)

NCIS, hands in the air.

Hey! Hands up.

Welcome home, Lavon.

Where is he?

Where's Babakov?

Who the hell is Babakov?

You and Babakov were
in adjoining cells.

You had a direct line of
communication through the vent.

He was a voice
with an accent.

Far as I knew, just
another thug on the block.

Who you planned
an escape with.

Like I told you,
I wasn't planning anything.

I was sleeping
when it went down.

Woke up when I felt the bus
go over the side of the road.

When it stopped,
I looked around,

I clocked the guard's
cuff keys laying there.

I saw an opportunity, and
I took it-- simple as that.

Nothing's as simple as that.

I ain't stupid.

No matter how you slice it,
I'm going away for a long time.

Even if I did know something
about ol' Baba Ganoush,

I got no incentive
to tell you about it.

Look at you
working the system.

This the... the translation
thingamajig?

Yep. In addition to English,
Babakov's fluent

in French, Russian, and Farsi.

Running translation software
on all three

to see if any phrases
with “grave”

have a phonetic equivalent.

So far-- zip.

What about the other one?

LASALLE: Security footage
from regional train stations.

Facial recognition program
will alert us

if it gets a match
on one of our fugitives.

Hmm!

You don't worry much about,
uh, cholesterol, do you?

Try not to worry
about anything, Lasalle.

You only live once, you might as
well enjoy it while you got it.

Don't mind if I do.

PRIDE: How's it
going over there?

Your boy, here, is
a multi-tasking machine.

Followed up
on that hunch

about Lavon being
at the hospital

without any
significant injuries.

Mother's sick.

Cancer, stage four.

(computer beeping)

Facial recognition in
the surveillance got a hit.

PRIDE:
That's Babakov.

And look who his
traveling companion is.

Nash looked up at the camera.

Now, why would he do that?

'Cause he's sending a message.

Look at what he drew
on his right arm.

Can you magnify the shot?

PRIDE:
What is that?

Marryat symbol, used by
the merchant navies in the 1800s

to signal danger or distress.

Babakov's bringing Nash along
as a human shield.

Care if I join you?

Be my guest.

You and I got a lot in common.

Is that so?

Both 'Bama boys,
born and raised.

And if you're anything like me,

you got a lot of love
for your hometown.

It's pretty ballsy of you
to go back there.

Must've had
a real good reason.

Granny's red velvet cake.

Your mama's real sick,
isn't she?

How long she have?

Doctor thought she'd be gone
a month ago.

Still hanging on.

Raised five kids on her own.

Be real nice to give her
peace of mind before she goes.

Let her know you're okay.

You'd...

you'd let me do that?

What can you tell us
about Babakov and Nash?

What you got?

LASALLE: Lavon's got
nothing on Babakov

using Nash as
a human shield.

But he did say, when
Babakov was in the Brig,

he bragged about having a
“get out of jail free card”"

Babakov was gonna
cut a deal.

Question is, what information
was he going to give up?

Pull the notes
from Babakov's interrogation.

Redacted.

Text me if we get any hits
on Babakov or Nash.

LASALLE:
Where you going, King?

Find out why we're being
kept in the dark.

PRIDE:
Thank you.

Hell of a place to
meet for coffee.

But... secure.

Help me out, Gibbs.

Need to know what was in
Babakov's interrogation file.

Heavily redacted.

That's why I'm on a ship
in the middle of the Atlantic.

Anything that's there,
I need to know.

You got to read
me in on it.

Contact of mine at Langley went
to the director.

Got it declassified.

Read it, burn it.

Couldn't have just
led with that?

(laughs)

(grunting, yelling on video)

BRODY:
Let me guess:

Beach Babes Five?

Sorry, wrong genre entirely.

Go.
(yells)

Other than a slight
over-arching of the wrist,

this Sonu Strike is
a perfect example

of classic Dim Mak warfare.

Dim-huh?

Dim Mak.

It's an ancient
Chinese combat technique

in which pressure points
are used to disable

or disorient the opponent.

The Sonu Strike, in particular,
causes changes in blood flow

that can damage
the large intestine.

Like the injuries
the Prisoner

and State Trooper
suffered.

Yeah. Historically,
Dim Mak was taught

to warriors of smaller stature,

so that they could take down
larger opponents

before going in for the kill.

Which proves, by the way,
size doesn't always matter.

Speak for yourself, buddy.

He's talking
about Babakov.

The fact that he'd be able
to pull it off on his own.

Well, if he'd been trained
in Dim Mak, he would.

But I doubt
that's the case.

Why's that?

Because Dim Mak is only taught
by trained Chinese masters.

Takes years to perfect.

According to his profile,

Babakov didn't spend
significant time in Asia.

But, we know someone
else who did--

Nash's ex-fiancée said that
he lived in Hong Kong as a kid.

Which means Nash could've helped
orchestrate the bus crash.

Which would rule out
his being held under duress.

Then what was Nash's
connection to Babakov?

PRIDE: I think I can
help out with that.

According to the UN-redacted
transcripts I just read,

Babakov's “get out of jail” card
was the identity

of a U.S. intelligence leak.

A mole.

Someone who was passing

classified military secrets

to Babakov, so he could sell
them on the black market.

SEBASTIAN: Nash's job
as a naval architect

would've given him access
to ship schematics,

weapons systems,
radar technology, the works.

Kind of intelligence

that could seriously compromise
national security.

No wonder Nash and his
ex-fiancée had trust issues.

He's been playing everyone
for years.

Right down to
the human shield act.

So, Babakov gets captured
by U.S. forces.

Nash gets wind of it,

knows that he's Babakov's most
valuable bargaining chip,

decides that he, Nash,
will get to Babakov

before his cover's blown.

(phone beeping)

Hotline got a tip placing
Babakov and Nash

exiting a train station near
Moss Point, Mississippi.

Are we almost there?

Close.

(coughing)

I'm going to ask you
one more time:

Did you tell them my name?

How many more times must we go
through this?

As many as it takes for me
to believe you.

I dangled the carrot

by telling them
there was a mole.

I never told them who.

Eh? You satisfied?

Yes.
All right.

(chuckles)

Friends?
Always.

(gunshot)

And then there was one.

The bus crash was days ago.

Why would Nash wait
until now to kill Babakov?

Needed time to make
his hometown hero act.

Or he needed to get some
information from him.

Either way,
song remains the same.

We got a fugitive on the loose.

And he's a low-down dirty rat.

Nash grew up in Hong Kong.

Which means he knows Cantonese.

So, if the kid did hear
the word “grave”...

Cross-reference Cantonese
with word match.

How long will that take?

Considering there's over
a 100,000 characters?

I wouldn't hold your breath.

Hang on a sec...

Babakov's body was found in
Moss Point, Mississippi, right?

Let me check something.

Here we go.

Brody, see if you can
triangulate

his position.

They weren't
speaking Chinese

or talking about
burying dead bodies.

Where do ships
go to die?

Grave dock.

Just so happens there's
an abandoned one

a stone's throaway
from Moss Point.

Nash must be
meeting a boat there

to make his escape.

With Babakov dead,
Nash is our only link

to the intelligence breech.

The country's national security
depends on finding out

what information
he passed along.

Nash is headed to the Gulf.

We've alerted the Coast Guard.

Plan is to cut him off

before he gets
to the grave dock.

Don't want to risk losing him
in international waters.

The target has changed,

but the mandate
remains the same:

capture Nash and
bring him in... alive.

(siren wails, then stops)

PRIDE:
What do we know?

OFFICER: We've cut off
all other paths.

He's gotta
come this way.

County's been called,
helo's inbound.

Parker, grab a couple guys--

There he is.

OFFICER: Murray, down!
Mike, get down!

PRIDE: Cover the perimeter.
We're going in.

NCIS!
Stop right there!

Oh, it's on like “Donkey Kong.”

(very quietly):
Come on...

where are you,
you dirty little rat?

Show yourself...

Pride! Brody! Heads up!

Nash!

I apply pressure,

she's dead
before she hits the floor.

You turn around,

let me walk out of here,

and she's all yours.

I can't do that.

But if you
let her go,

I promise you
you'll get out of here

in bracelets
instead of a body bag.

What's it going to be?

Let her go, Nash.

Wrong answer.

You all right?

Yep.

Yes, you are.

VANCE:
You disobeyed a direct order,

Agent Pride,
which puts us in the dark.

We've no clue what
Intel Nash compromised

or who Babakov
was selling it to.

Needless to say,

there's fallout.

Both the CIA and SECNAV

want an internal investigation.

With all due respect, Director,

you want me to make a choice

between a traitor

and one of my own,

I'll take the shot every time.

You want my badge,

you know where to find me.

That a wrap, Lieutenant?

Yeah, I'm done
with all my paperwork,

so it's back to base.

There's no security
without the SECO officer.

You're not even
out the door yet,

and I'm feeling less secure.

(laughs)

Can I ask you
a question?

Shoot.

Why haven't we...

Dated?

You know, that's funny,

'cause I was just asking
myself the same thing.

Come up with anything?

'Cause in about two seconds,
we'd be broken up,

crossing paths at work,
and that would just be...

Uncomfortable.

Bingo.

Guess we got something
to look forward to.

Yes, we do.

See you around.

Not if I see you first.

Good night, Lieutenant.
Good night, Agent Brody.

You ready?

Always.

Good. 'Cause we have
a promise to keep.

(monitors beeping
quietly, steadily)

I'm here, Mama.

Right by your side.

Gonna be okay.

What do you say we take a detour
on the way back?

Get some Royal Reds and
play pool at Stillwaters?

Actually, I had
something else in mind.

PRIDE:
Linda, it's me.

Uh... (splutters)

Remember that pillbox

we lived in right
after we got married?

The one with the leaky fridge,

and we used to go up
on the rooftop and...

well... (laughs)
well, you-you know.

Uh...

I just... I-I'm willing
to go see that therapist.

Just name the time
and place and...

and, uh, you know,
whatever it takes to...

work this out.

So no more time slips by.

So... call me.

(Brody and Lasalle
conversing indistinctly)

BRODY: I mean, how often
do you actually cook?

LASALLE: I'm not a... I'm not
a boil expert, but...

BRODY: You're not an
anything expert.

LASALLE: How many of
these shrimp boils

do you think I've done?

BRODY: I know what
I'm talking about.

Ohfamous last words.

St. Aug Marching 100
coming over for dinner?

What on earth are you two doing?

Don't look at me.
It's Brody's idea.

She made me drive straight back
here-- didn't even let me

stop in Gulf Shores
to take a look at the view.

After the couple days
that we had, can't blame

a girl for wanting to get home.

What's in the pot?
Shrimp boil.

Thought I'd cook
you something.

You know, for, uh...
for saving my butt today.

Just part of the job.

Maybe so.

Still felt good
to know you had my back.

So, anyway, like I was saying,

the cayenne goes in
before the shrimp.

No, no, no, no, no!
Here...

It says online to add
the seasonings last.

Online?
Oh, hell, no...

It's a foodie blog.
Oh, for... No, n...

Both of you are wrong.

Foodie blog...
It all goes in

at once.

All right?

How 'bout the two of you
call a truce...

enjoy each other's company
for the evening?

Hey, now I'll
drink to that.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man