Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Oh, come on. These crabs, this time, were not my fault.
Bring it.
Lana, no. ARCHER: Oh...
...and then I'm screwed, because I don't have--
My sat phone. The pirates took it.
Wait, what if Lana's been captured too?
Thank you.
He just kind of keeled over.
Three million in cash? That, uh, should not be a problem.
Yeah, that's not a thing. If and when that becomes a thing!
But I don't want Mother talking to Bucky.
I can't with all the-- Everybody looking at me, and then the judgments--
Columbia House Record Club.
God only knows what kind of torture Sterling's going through.
And that we spare Malory the details of your time on Pirate Island.
Noah, still got four bullets. Oh, God, do you know what "extant" means?
...to say, Swiss bank accounts?
All five minutes of it. At which point, Ms. Archer will probably dissolve me in a drum of acid...
ARCHER: What, Lana? LANA: I--
Look, Lana, don't get me wrong, I like your spunk.
My sat phone. Yeah. See, Noah? Her-- Wait, your what?
We're going. One, two, three, down, herd. LANA: Oof.
Lurch, what are you doing?
Hey, way to not give them the power.
Thanks, human shield. Although, where the hell are all your men?
"Dr. Charles Drew, or I will eat a bag of dicks."
Tend to the wounded!
Heh-heh-heh. And one, two, three, go, herd. LANA: Whoa! Unh!