All language subtitles for Mr. & Mrs. Smith - S01E07 - The Coma Episode

Okay, hit me.

Lady Chevy duked it out with a
wall of concrete. The wall run.

Knock off the Q-talk, will ya? Right.

Unresponsive BP 100 over 50.

Tachycardic. Respirations
labored. How about her pupils?

We started an 18-gauge in the antecubital.

Who the hell are you? This is Dr.
Norris K. Smith, our family physician.

I'm Jim Marshall. Patty's my daughter.
How is she? Is she going to be all right?

Well, you get behind the blue line,
sir, on my count. One, two, three, go.

All right, listen up. I want to start
another IV. She's got a history of seizures,

tonic-clonic. So I'll need a
dilantin level, and let's see.

Give me a red heart.

Good, good. All right, as soon as
she's out of x-ray, turn her to ICU.

I want her hooked up,
tubed up, and sitting pretty.

No toxic screen, doctor?

No, I know this woman. She's
in a typical post-ictal state.

Even seizure patients can OD on drugs.

Lady, I am FACP with a post-grad in
neurosurgicals from the University of Chicago.

The book, Physiopathological Basis
of Coma, I wrote it, okay? Doctor?

Mr. Smith, I'm sure she
was only trying to help.

Jim, you want a
comedian? You hire Letterman.

You want to save your daughter's life?

Then keep your alligator shirt
out of my way. The bottom line is,

she is my patient. So let's go, people.

Come on.

Chop, chop.

Hey, let's turn an 18 gauge here.

You'll memorize very quickly, Mr.
Smith. You sound like a real doctor.

Yeah.

Look, the coma-inducing drug that she
took, is she going to be all right?

A phenobon?

I sure hope so.

I'm Mr. Smith, but
that's not my real name.

I'm Mrs. Smith, but that's
not my real name either.

You see, we're spies.

But let's face it, this name thing,
couldn't it get a little confusing?

People might think we're
American. That's okay.

Okay, I'm playing doctor.

You hacked my bogus history into the
hospital computers, but I'm still in a fog.

Well, I'm sorry. I did drag you off a
plane without any warning, didn't I? Okay.

A, Mrs. Smith is faking a coma. Right.

So that B, she can get next to...
Natasha Pavlovich, who is also in a coma.

Well, Mrs. Natasha...

But then you have worked
together before, haven't you?

She did a favor for me once.

Anything else? Yes,
Natasha has a bodyguard, Boris.

He's the bastard who made it so
hard for us to get close to her.

Excuse me, sir.

What are we doing? What
the hell is going on?

Wait, I'm here to see my patient.

I'm the bodyguard on duty.
My daughter's here. Yes, yes.

I'm sorry about that, Doc. We got
this VIP in Bay 2. Natasha Pavlovich,

the first assistant to the
Serbian Secretary of State

in a coma since Sunday.
Boris is her bodyguard.

Word is, someone forced
their car off a bridge.

And you are?

Bobby Sheftel, surgical resident,
first year. Regular guy, brand new,

right out of the box. Shaky hands.

Anyway, got your patient all
hooked up, and your orders are posted.

No one is to touch her but you. Adios.

What's her ETA? 500
milligrams of phenobarbital.

I should say another couple of hours.

All right.

Natasha's in a coma. Mrs. Smith is
faking one so she can be near her,

and I'm playing her surgeon.

Because of this message.

Which was that for the
factory last Sunday.

This is Natasha Pavlovich.

There's to be a terrorist attack by
a Serbian right-wing group. Target,

the Bosnian peace talks
resuming this Friday in Washington.

I will learn who the terrorist
is and his method between now and

midnight when I arrive at our old
meeting site in Hagerstown, Maryland.

Code words will be Markle
to be answered by Polo.

And when she didn't make it to
Hagerstown, you tracked her here.

You think the terrorist is the
one who tried to have her killed?

We must count on our diplomat,
Natasha, waking up within the next 72 hours,

locked in her brain is the name of the
terrorist and the location of the attack.

If she comes through, either yourself or
Mrs. Smith will be in place to get it.

Any backup?

Yeah, he's a pain in the ass.

He's all I could get at such short notice.

His name is, um... Dr. Lance McQuaid.

I specialize in neurosurgery,
pathology, and biochemical warfare.

So why set up in the morgue?

What is this, an interrogation?

Not at all. I was just curious.
Not that it's any of your business,

but I can monitor Mrs. Smith
and Natasha in privacy here.

Plus, the position was open.

And as of 8 o'clock this morning,

I am the 10th medical examiner for
the Hagerstown General Hospital.

You have a problem with that?

No? Good.

Now, I'm told that you have
a little medical training.

I'm not impressed. Here, read
this coma book. Look, McQuaid,

if I have in any way
offended you, I apologize.

The point is, Mr. Smith, I used to be
president of my own spy shop, okay?

So I'm accustomed to
giving orders, not taking them.

We clear?

Sir, I respectfully request Dr.
McQuaid be replaced immediately.

Request denied.

Then I will relieve him of his gun.

Over my dead body.

Sorry, I already got it.

Neat, eh? By night, a .22 caliber pistol
bearing four hollow point bullets. By day,

your normal ophthalmoscope scopes
out any ear, eye, nose, or throat.

Mind you, it is a tad
nasty determining which

button to press, but you'll soon get...

We'll soon get the hang of it.

Hey, good grouping. Now, this
is your communication equipment.

A stethoscope. It's based
on the old Panzer tank gear.

You speak through here, and you
listen with it around your neck here,

or through the earpieces here.

Any questions?

Uh, our Mrs. Smith.

How is Sleeping Beauty?

Just waiting.

Where have you been? I've been
awake like a mummy for two hours.

I can't even scratch my nose.

ETA was 8 a.m.

8 a.m.? Since dawn, they've been
turning me into a lab specimen, ew.

Yeah, look, if you can
manage to get the name of

the terrorist from
Natasha, you will be a hero.

Hero? Shmiro. I'm
famished. You have my food.

They had me on this ID, but where's my
food? Hold on, let's see what I got here.

High-five protein drink?
You bring me health food?

How'd you know my brand?

You know, I didn't. That's all I had.

Apple for the teacher.

So listen, this coma-inducing
phenobarb you took, any bad side effects?

Depends.

If you dig things in
like slow-mo, high-five,

psychedelic pink, it's
really, really good.

Any neat gizmo?

Yeah, microphone,
earpiece, and this number here.

Ear and nose by day, 22 caliber by night.

Cool.

Mm-hmm.

Want to meet Natasha?

I think there's a secret to a terrorist
attack locked inside of her. She's so,

like, delicate and vulnerable.

Yeah.

I'll bet you the guy who tried
to kill her felt the same way.

McQuaid.

McQuaid, we're in position.

About time.

Ask Mrs. Smith if she noticed any slight
movement, fluttering of Natasha's eyelids.

Have you noticed any movement,
a fluttering of the eyelids?

No, not that I can tell. But then
again, I've been flat on my ass.

She says no movement,
but she's on the case.

Are we still looking at a
72-hour recovery window?

You're the big cheese, Smith. You tell me.

Touch sensitive, don't you think?

No.

No, he's a great guy.

Top drawer.

Yeah, 10-4.

Natasha Pavlovich?

Okay, um...

CBC, creatinine, BUN,
glucose, carboxyhemoglobin.

Standard test result.
They're probably hoping that she

has a concussion that
she'll wake up spontaneously.

Go to the back page.

You have a CT scan?

Hi, hi, Doc, this is Mrs.
Smith. Yeah, hi. Oh, that's, uh, no.

That's right, we're in the
sticks, between D.C. and Baltimore.

Probably don't have a CT scanner.

I better examine her.

Wait, wait, wait, McQuaid, you're
not the spy on this project, okay?

Your experience is as
an administrator only.

Fine. As far as I can tell,
they've done skull x-rays only.

Let's ask them for an ultrasound.
See if she has a subdural hematoma.

And if she does?

Well, they'll drain it.

Risky, but it could save her
life. Maybe even wake her up.

What's going on in there?

Nurse, this is the patient,
Pavlovich. She should have had an ultrasound.

They're asking for you
in the emergency room.

Me? I'm just a visitor here.

There's a head injury coming in.
It's a kid, doctor. He's dying.

Listen, I'm not insured for this
emergency room. You've got to have other surgeons.

The General's had huge
cutbacks. We're very short-staffed.

I'm here on a blend-up program as it is.

Besides, Dr. Cotter is
on rounds over in D.C.

And since you're an expert in
head injuries, we thought, well,

the fact is I'm green. There's
no other surgeons available,

and I don't have the chops. And if you
don't operate, this kid's going to die.

Smith. Pardon me?

The kid. How old is the kid?

His breathing's labored.
Intubate with a number 4 tube.

BP falling. Only getting 80 palpable.

Kind of bradycardic.

Doctor, number four, too.

Dr. Smith, you asked for these?

It's me. Oh.

Oh, yeah, thanks. Thanks. Doctor.

Doctor. Yeah, number four. That
sounds good. Got an IV started.

What do you want me to run him? Dr. Smith.

What do you suggest? T5W to keep open,
right? Very good. Wait, you get any of this?

Smith, whatever you're doing, stop. Stop.

Use an endotracheal
tube. Neck might be broken.

Stabilize and intubate
with a nasal tracheal.

All right, let's just slow down. That
number four is an endotracheal tube.

His neck might be
broken. So I stabilize it.

Exactly. Then we'll intubate with
a nasal tracheal through the nose.

Number?

No, no, no, you're
green, you got shaky hands.

You gotta learn sometime, let's take a
test drive. Gently now, remember he's a kid.

Gently now, remember he's a kid.

Okay.

Give him a breath and
then insert on the inhale.

On the inhale.

How'd you know that? All right,
hyperventilate him. 100% oxygen.

Okay, good. Let's
hyperventilate him with 100%

oxygen. Ambubag. Don't let him get lazy.

Ambubag. Come on, let's go. Let's go.

This pressure's coming
up, Dr. Smith. 100 over 60.

He's awake.

Turn to Pete's ICU.

Observe him.

Let's get him up to Pediatrics ICU. Stat.

Wrap him on our observation.

Good job, people.

Watch your back. Chef, tell him.

You look a little green. It's
the first life I've ever saved.

You did a hell of a job.
I'll get some air. Thanks.

McQuaid, you rude, magnificent bastard.

Hey, what are you doing in
there? Oh, hello there. I'm Ilya,

the new radiologist.
Oscar, the old janitor.

Hey, man, this isn't
the doctor on call room.

Yes, I know that.

I was only... What, are
you British or something?

No, actually, I'm
Serbian. Pistachio? Yeah.

Yes, but I went to
graduate school in London.

In fact, I remember my fellow students
affectionately called me a real killer.

But I am a Serb through and through.

And when my fellow
patriots hear I have blown

apart the Bosnian peace signing
Friday, they will remember me.

So, essentially in coma, the body is
whole, but the mind is on holiday.

Conscious appreciation depends on what?

Dr. Shafto?

Integrative cortical structures.

Right. Do you concur, Dr. Smith?

This patient should have had an
ultrasound to check for signs of subdural hematoma.

Draining a cranial hematoma
is life-threatening, doctor.

I prefer to give the patient
time to recover naturally.

Which brings us to your patient.

Miss Marshak, are this a sack?

Uh, no, that's quite unnecessary.

Fine.

Coma patient, suffered
from crash-induced head

injury, tonic-clonic, subject to seizures.

Suggest a treatment?

Uh, since Miss Marshak has only been
comatose a day, I would suggest...

Stimulating the five senses. Excuse me.

Stimulating the five senses?

Just as we use the
ophthalmoscope to observe the pupils,

sometimes pays dividends to take
a look at the auditory system.

Or perhaps the olfactory senses.

Of course, then there's my
all-time favorite, ice. Ice.

Still skeptical, doctor?

You see, people, coma
patients may only seem vegetative,

but it is a long road
to permanent la-la land.

You do this for circulation?

Most brain trauma specialists
recommend anything to get the blood going.

And for how long do you baste her?

Oh, uh...

Mm-hmm.

Even and strong.

Prognosis...

Patient wakes in 48 hours.

Mr. Smith, your presence is required.

My suggestion, all of you check out E.D.

Chow in Brain Trauma
Essentials and anything

from the Scuddy Institute of New Jersey.

Thank you.

Dr. Smith, the board is
having a meeting tonight.

There's something we'd
love to discuss with you.

Sure, no problem.

Thank you.

So there are no admit
records for this man?

Trust me, Smith, I cataloged
every corpse that came in here.

His neck?

Snapped.

Died in seconds.

The body must have
been slipped in here last

night after you left the operating room.

Look, McQuaid, about me
saving your butt in the ER,

let's spare ourselves some
maudlin sentiment, shall we? No,

I was wondering how a body
could be slipped in here at all.

Oh, I, um, I went to the bathroom.

For five minutes.

But didn't you say this man
just died within seconds?

Look, at the time, I didn't think
Natasha was in any great danger.

All right, look.

This man's clothes are the wrong size,

which means that the killer probably
took his, and I would suspect his ID badge.

Now, what does that tell you?

Oh, God.

The killer's in the hospital. Very good.
And the guy who ran Natasha off the bridge?

The terrorist.

What you got?

Looks like a pistachio shell.

The man who was killed
was a hospital janitor.

By the lab boy's figure, the murderer
stole his clothes, his hospital ID, etc.,

What about the red smudges on his collar?

Red dye number five, hint
of salt, a dash of green.

Your terrorist digs pistachio nuts.

So we have a pistachio-munching
terrorist wandering around the hospital?

Just waiting for a chance
to kill Natasha Pavlovich.

Uh-huh.

Look, why don't we just
check out all the janitors?

Take a look at your ID badge. It's
generic. It doesn't say what you do,

just that you work at Hagerstown General,
so he could be playing a doctor, a nurse,

x-ray technician, anyone.

Here's your end of poll report now.

Thumbprint on pistachio shell
matches hired killer codenamed Ilya.

Serbian, deadly, linked to executions
in Sarajevo, Tuzla, no known photograph.

He's good.

He's very good.

So this Ilya, if he kills
Natasha in the hospital, is home free.

And no one will be able to identify him.

Or stop him from blowing up the Bosnian
peace conference in D.C. on Friday. Look,

this Ilya is a sneaky cat.

What say we give him a mouse?

Me as a mouse. You as a mouse. Okay, me
as a mouse, when? Nine o'clock tonight.

Nine o'clock tonight, no problemo.

Me as a mouse, we do the switch,
nine o'clock tonight, I'll be safe.

What'd you bring me?

Bring you?

As in like food, as in like
sustenance by which to live.

Oh, that.

Let's see. Turkey burger?

Stole it from the microwave
in maternity. No pickles,

no mayo, and well, let's see, celery.

Oh, no. My friends are a prince
among fake surgeons slash spiders.

Did you eat?

I'm fine, thanks. Stuff I got.

Oh, um, they had a reward? Uh-huh.
Dr. Cotter, she's right, you know.

If Natasha does have a subdural
hematoma, draining it could be life-threatening.

So is allowing a terrorist
to bomb a peace conference.

Hey, you know what? You haven't
been with her 24 hours a day.

I've got this glow about her. I know
I don't know anything about her past,

but I just sense she's a nice person
worth protecting. Even the nurses feel it.

Look, our job is no
different than Natasha's was.

Save a peace treaty and prevent a
huge loss of life. If she was awake,

she would say the same thing.

Not that well, do you?

No.

No, not at all.

Care to synchronize
watches? 357 coming up on 358 now.

A little adjustment here, and more here.

Code blue. I see you. Vapor. Code blue.

I see you. Vapor. Mom, come on.

I got it.

One, two, three, four, five, breathe.

Your patient's arresting, doctor. BP 80
palpin falling. Want to take the wheel?

It's your hospital. Your code.

It's in a friend. 1M. Give
me 260 joules. 1M coming up.

Hold it.

Charge 260. What's it gonna
be, doctor? You in or out?

She's my patient.

I'll take it. Clear the bed. Ready?

Clear.

Clear.

One, two, three, four, five.
One, two, three, four, five.

And now for a little extra spice.

Cardiopulmonary game. Oh, no.

Look, Dr. Cotter, take a team and go.

Go.

Let's go. Let's go on the double.
What the hell is going on today?

Hey, who are you? I'm going in. No.

Quit eating. I'm sorry, I'm hungry.

The code's a false
alarm. The monitor's fritzed.

We called the code.

Who lost her?

Let's get her to the morgue.

What's that?

Is it that one shot?

Who is it? It's not Patty, is it?

Stop, stop. Okay, God, no, not
panting. Please, not panting.

What are you doing? Panting.

Panting.

It's special.

What are you trying to tell me?

That Natasha Pavlovich
is out of the woods?

No, just that she doesn't
have a subdural hematoma.

Oh, look, spare me the
deductive reasoning in plain English.

An operation won't wake her up.

But she will wake up.

Eventually.

But we need times, exact information.

The treaty signing is tomorrow.

Look, I'm sure if the
FBI were to come in...

The FBI are not going to send an
entire city into panic based on conjecture.

Well, we still have 24 hours.

You know, McQuaid, I'm beginning to
understand why your espionage business failed.

Strange. For the first time in my
life, I'm beginning to hope that my enemy,

this Ilya, is as good as
the reports say he is.

You want him to kill Mrs. Smith?

No, of course not.

But I sure would like him to try.

May I call you Natasha?

Oh, hi.

Hiya.

Sorry, I thought you were Ilya.

Yeah, I told Dr. Cotter I
had to check and double-check

exactly why my patient,
Patty Morshock, died.

Thirsty?

Yeah, thanks.

I know one of your secrets.

What?

This came in your x-ray jacket.

Uh, that's my leg.

Mm-hmm. It was broken once in two places.

You were obviously tortured.

Pain must have been excruciating.

You really want to bait me
into revealing myself, don't you?

I'm just saying that having been
through torture myself... Uh-huh.

No, no, no.

Tell you what.

You tell me one of your scar
stories, and I'll tell you one of mine.

Well, I got a gash.

Right there, see?

Oh, please. It's a flesh wound. Any old
spy worth their salt has one of those. See?

I got one.

Yeah?

Huh?

Yeah?

Uh-huh.

Yeah, well, you got a Graves from a .45?

Anti-tank RPG shape, like a swan. Really?

Really.

Cool.

What about, uh... On my butt?

Mm-hmm.

Yeah, I got one of those.

Howitzer shrapnel 107.
You? Grenade. 17 slivers.

Hmm.

You spied that?

Any good spy would. Suicide.

Kinda.

See, some years ago, I got nabbed
spying on a Russian naval base.

They sentenced me to death.

My ex-partner, a Mr.
Doe, parachuted in, broke

into my gulag, and we escaped by night.

Mr. Doe, unfortunately,
was shot in the melee.

He was bleeding like crazy. He said, go.

I said, I couldn't, and we beat into
the mountains. It was snowing, and, well,

he died in my arms at dawn.

And the scar?

I made a crude attempt at a blood
transfusion. Instead of saving Mr. Doe,

I passed out. It's funny.

Helicopter pilot said he never would
have seen us except for all the red snow.

You shouldn't have told
me that story. Yeah, yeah,

yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, I know, I know.

Your turn.

Okay.

Once, I was assigned to
ferret out this mole who had

burrowed into a certain
European intelligence agency.

Yeah, and?

And... He killed himself a few days later.

About a year later, they
contacted me and, uh...

They told me the man had been clean.

Seems he'd been framed by the real mole.

Why'd the first guy kill himself?

We've told each other too
much. We need to get out of here.

Come again?

Look, because you told me your story, I
know now you'd risk your life to save mine,

and I don't want to rely on that.

Fine.

Fine, if that's how you feel about it.

Here.

It's a .22 caliber, remember? In
case our friend Ilya shows up,

and he will show up, you might
find the need to act self-sufficient.

Transfer?

I wasn't informed. Why?

Dr. Carter, order. See,
she signed it right there.

Dr. Smith, please report
to the conference room.

Where does she go? North Wing.
Madeline, check her blood pressure as we go,

would you? Ellen, the North
Wing is like practically empty.

Why is she being turfed
there? Hey, orders are

orders. When you're a
doctor, then we'll speak.

Okay, okay, but I go where she goes.

Dr. Smith, my colleagues
and I would really appreciate

any input you have on
federal funding policies.

Doctors, that resume of mine is wrong.

It's not wrong, it's
just that, well, I did

interface with HEW,
but that was years ago.

I really gotta go.

I'm sorry.

I just, uh, I gotta go.

Natasha, darling, I have
a little present for you.

Transferred?

Where?

North Wing.

You commit quick, and it can help.

Go!

And a hollow tube, all right?

A small pen, anything
that'll help vent the air.

The tube?

The tube?

I had to do this in Afghanistan once.

Her medic was blown to hell. I
saw him do this on an Afghani.

Okay, Goss.

Goss.

Okay, that's good. Listen, about this, uh,

Afghani stuff I was just telling you
about, if she comes too, don't, don't, uh,

don't mention anything about that, okay?

I know.

Mr. Smith, are you in place?

And have you got the composite
drawing of this Iliad guy in circulation?

Yes, sir.

Yes, such as it is.

Rooftops, entrances are being
covered by the Secret Service.

What about the Bosnian
delegates? Have they arrived?

Signing ceremonies should
take place within the hour.

Security is tight.

What's her condition? McQueen?

Well, in medical terms,
she... Not Natasha, Mrs. Smith.

Oh, well, there's a strange hole
in my ribs, but other than that,

I'm weak but better. Thank you.

Ms. Pavlovich? No change.

I thought you said
she'd wake within 72 hours.

No, no, I said I hope
she'd wake within 72 hours.

Terrific. Any minute now,

three delegations from Bosnia
are set to sign a peace treaty.

And some mad bomber
named Ilyas lurking around

God knows where ready to level the joint.

I should have stayed in a coma.

Look, you don't have to use that tone
with me. Use any damn tone we please.

Here's a news flash. The
feds are planning to jam

all frequencies but
their own. All right, folks.

I'll be in touch.

Sir, McQuaid.

Toxic gas, sarin, anthrax, any of
that, what's its best delivery system?

Anything that'll make them airborne.

Why? What's up? I thought we were
looking for an explosive device.

So did I. If a toxic gas
were to get airborne...

Are we talking, what, feet per
second, something like that?

Yeah, well, let me just put it this way.

Some of the biochem stuff
is so toxic that as little

as a pinhead's worth will
kill thousands in minutes.

Mr. Smith!

The main air conditioning system,
the intake vents, where are they?

Okay, okay, but hurry it, will you?

Uh, uh, Marco. Oh, well. Oh.

Gas canisters, aerosol
delivery system, bingo.

What are you doing here?
I'm fine. Natasha woke up.

The bomb's made up of sarin
nerve gas, temperature activated.

Okay.

Gotcha.

75 degrees in here. All
right, Ely's got it set at 70.

Temperature drops to that,
the gas will be released.

Okay, will you adjust it?

No, no, no, no. He went to a lot of
trouble to run this wire in here.

My guess is he's probably got a failsafe.

Anybody messes with it, the
gas will automatically detonate.

You got a light?

Pardon me, sir, you got a light?

Thank you.

Roughly smart, aren't we?
We need hot air. Okay, blow.

Blow.

Maybe I should try and find
the compressor and turn it off,

and it'll stay hot in here.

Okay.

You really think I let you
board my mission, Doctor?

Gotta work on that pistachio habit, son.

Come with the factory.

Excuse me, excuse me.

You can stop now.

What? I said you can stop.

Now, Natasha, when
you're back in Sarajevo,

don't forget to drop
us a line now and then.

Yeah, we'd all really like
to know how you're doing.

But if I were to correspond, I might
reveal something about my past, and... And?

That would be a violation of factory
rules. Wait, you mean you used to be a spy?

Did I say that?

I'm sorry I neglected to inform
you of Natasha's past work with us.

I somehow thought it might
hinder your coma performance.

Hey, you guys talking about me again?

I'm sorry. He was just asking how
my husband is doing. He rescued Mr.

Smith once from a Russian gulag, you know.

They both nearly bled to death.

Helicopter pilots said if it
hadn't been for all that red snow,

he'd never have spotted them.

Well, goodbye.

Oh, bye.

Thank you.

Peace to Bosnia.

Peace to Bosnia.

Somehow I don't believe a
word either of you have said.

Hey, all right, all right.

I know that you think I'm a poser
and conceited and self-centered.

That's right. Oh, good, good.

Because I decided a long
time ago that I'd rather

be honest and arrogant
than humble and a liar.

And rip off quotes
from Frank Lloyd Wright.

Yeah, well, whatever. The
point is, I want to hire you away.

From the factory, that is.

Oh, you do, do you?

Yeah, well, I'm starting a new spy shop,
and I need people that I can work with,

you see. So, what do you guys say?

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Let's file him under the life tutelage.

I never thanked you for saving my life.

Oh, I... You're still
wondering about her, aren't you?

About who?

Natasha.

No, not at all.

He was her husband, Mr. Doe.

He was also my partner.
You understand that, right?

Of course. Oh, okay.

Still, I mean, she wasn't
wearing a wedding ring.

Lots of people don't wear them.

True.

Then again, lots of
people don't speak Serbian.

Like I do.