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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Noah, seriously, I swear to God, stop.
Because we're in a dungeon.
Wait a minute, that can't be right.
What? We are the music makers, we are the dreamers of dreams.
Look, Lana, don't get me wrong, I like your spunk.
Yeah, that's not a thing. If and when that becomes a thing!
Oh. Hello?
Uh, couple things. One, Ray, thanks for perpetuating the stereotype...
Lana.
You got me. Well, that's just super.
Hmm. What? Don't listen to him.
Winner, winner, chicken dinner.
- He's already a quart low, so...
How much of my blood does he need? I don't know, 10 gills?
Sterling, get your things.
Shut up. But I promised his mother that I would bring him home safely.
What? U.S. Or imperial?
For shit's sake, Mother! How short is the list of guys you haven't screwed?
I don't even want the gay back. So you just better sharpen your pencil.
Archer, the important thing is that we're home.
Maybe some psychic scarring, yes, but physically I'm...
And again, I'm just incredibly sorry.
Noah, still got four bullets. Oh, God, do you know what "extant" means?
- I will never, ever forgive you, and we will never, ever be friends again.
...of the gay man as a collegiate cheerleader.
I know it shouldn't be, and it better not be.
It's not Algonquin for anything. Noah...
Sterling, are you all right?