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?
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!
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?
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 víkí 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.
I'll do my best, sir.
Ha! Parry, parry, riposte!
Capital defense.
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.
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?
I'm staying.
CREDITS
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?
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?
Excuse me.
Gentlemen, it's been an honor.
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...
Shall I open another bag, sir?
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.
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! - 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.
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.
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?
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.
Aleister!
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?
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?
Absolutely. Look at that grip.
He could twist a pineapple in half.
But he's a gross servant and it's totally forbidden.
Is how I'd get things going.
Can I help you, ladies?
Just keep doing what you're doing, Aleister.
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.
Lana to the situation room.
If you're free.
Office work. Can't get hurt by you.
Sorry. Just testing the range.
- Aleister, reload me. - Don't reload him.
Holy shit, Aleister. What was that?
A technique from my old employer,
general Bernard Montgomery.
You knew the spartan general?
Old monty, yes.
He also enjoyed his manhattans.
Will you take yours in your office, sir?
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.
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. 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!
What I always wanted.
Minus the bookshelf.
Seems like a missed opportunity.
In that case, you might enjoy
"mr. Boston's bartender guide."
It's whimsically practical!
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.
And hey...
I love you, Aleister.
And I you, sir.
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.
Sir, I thought I might prepare my specialty tonight,
steak Aleister.
If you make it home.
I'll be here.
And if I'm not, heh, I'm probably dead.
Very good, sir.
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.
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.
This is sabotage!
Yeah, again, of my schedule.
Is the primary driving rope
still threaded through the car sheave?
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?
Also... No.
Jump or die in a box, cyril.
Jeezy pete.
Crap. We're only on the third floor?
Lost them over the waterfall,
but my left leg is all messed up, and I...
- Ray. - Just spent three hours...
- Ray! - In a spider-filled ditch.
- Ray! - What?
Krieger knows.
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... 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.
- Hey, Lana. - Keep what a secret?
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.
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.
Archer!
I think someone's trying to kill me.
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.
No, nope. I appreciate the offer.
This mission, it's just too dangerous.
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!
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.
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.
Get down!
Wha...
You said no one attempts an assassination three times in one day!
Aleister, are you okay?
It sounds like you're nearby. Are you in danger?
What if Aleister is the danger?
Aleister? Where are you right now?
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?
In her defense, she thinks all butlers are murderers.
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.
Steek Aleister.
A delicious meal, prepared fully out of my sight.
Perhaps, you'd like to take the first bite.
Thank you, sir, but it wouldn't be proper.
Aleister, it's proper if I say it is.
Indeed, sir.
Excellent.
And now you, sir,
before it gets cold.
Terrible thing, that shooting at the haberdashery.
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.
Damn it! You took my secret shotgun?
And had this floor waxed.
Wow, looks crazy shiny.
You know me so well. I hate it.
Just doing my job, sir.
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.
Apologies, sir.
It seems I forgot to reload that round.
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.
So is it gonna shoot me or just electrocute me?
There's explosive residue on the cables, 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.
And the steak Aleister was just adequate.
Zip line!
Boom goes the personal health-care form.
I'd like to see a regular field agent
fill these out in triplicate.
- Cyril! - Archer.
What are you doing here after normal business hours?
I'm here during showdown hour.
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.
Cyril, you're making this more annoying than it needs to be.
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.
Pretty sure shooting a coworker is an HR violation.
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. - 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.
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...
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.
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.
Really?
To criticize how stupid he is.
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.
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.
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.
But I did.
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...
valet.
No, I'm done with valets.
Because no one will ever top you.
And that steak Aleister, I-it wasn't just adequate.
It was goddamn perfect.
Good-bye, Aleister.
You taught...
You taught me to love again!
Where the hell is everybody?
Holy crap.
Can we just live here?
Yeah!
What's their extradition policy?
Yeah, it's pretty, but a burger
costs, like, a million dollars.
- I'll take four. - Shut up.
And I'll take the big bedroom.
I'm sorry.
The big bedroom is already taken.
CREDITS