Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Uh, smoke bomb!
CHERYL: There's teriyaki?
ARCHER: I'm sorry.
Son of a shit-snacking whore.
And why do you need so much blood?
Wait, on foot?
Ray. Actually, I might not be cut out for it.
What? How are we gonna get back to Earth?
Oh, now they've got-- Enough.
He asked, intending to be facetious.
Because I need a small cadre of highly trained agents...
So that we don't die writhing in agony, when we run out of oxygen.
COMPUTER: ...30 meters...
So where does ISIS fit in, commander? Well--
You trying to get my mother into the Million-Mile-High Club?
Both… I guess
My God, you're wounded. Put him here.
I'm sorry. Are you talking to me?
Incredibly.
Or whatever. The normal number.
The com-link, by the door.
Awesome.
Mr. Archer, that's twice you've jeopardized the success of this mission.
For what? Space-blastering me in the fricking tits?
Oh, I will.
After you blew me off for Katya, the big-titted cyborg.
Do not like.