Malory: I think I can sell them on a rewrite, if you fix it.
Cyril: For starters, I don't think you wanna say this guy is as coal black and thick-muscled as a fieldhand.
Malory: I don't need you for content, just for plot structure.
Cyril: Racist overtones aside, it really kinda limits your casting options. I mean, only two, three guys could play that.
You can't have a flasback with a flashforward in it. That's just bad writing.Cyril
Cheryl: Deaf people are gross.
Pam: Not as gross as the hook hand ones.
Cheryl: Eh? I dunno.
Rona: Where's my journal?
Pam: I maybe kind of sort of took it?
Gillette: Why would you do that?
Cheryl: Did you think it was meat?
Archer: Your stance. You're fighting yourself.
Rona: Excuse me?
Archer: You're all rigid and stiff. Which I'm all for. Rim shot.
Oh my god, if I possessed the capacity to be embarrassed.Rona
Archer: You're just doing this to spite me!
Archer: I am qualified because I happen to be the world's greatest secret agent.
Rona: But you're a man.
Archer: And then some.
Lana: This isn't the Sheriff's department where you get wear a windbreak and go on a ride-along. This is highly classified cover ops.
Rona: Yes! Covert ops! This is exactly the kind of spy lingo I want to soak up.
Pam: What part of highly classified do you not understand?
Rona: All of it!
Archer: Judging from the decor, I'm guessing Spelvin has one of those kick ass Japanese soaking tubs.
Cyril: After all that you want to take a bath?
Archer: Do you not?
Cyril: I have one bullet left.
George Spelvin: He does?
Archer: Who am I? Count Bulletsula? Like Dracula. That was bad. Come back to me. I can do better.
Shoot him Cyril! But just him. I think the twins are warming up to me. Right? Am I getting some signals?