Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Hey, here's a thing. Your mother doesn't know you ran away to be a pirate, so--

MALORY: Was that a gunshot?

CYRIL: Wait a minute, that can't be right.

All I wanted was to mourn the murder of my crazy-hot Russian fiancée...

LANA: You lying, pathetic, little piece of-- Ooh.

But I guess that was too much to ask!

And my mourning period for, um... Katya?

But remember earlier, when you said you and I were friends?

Oh, really? Then I get to watch her rub it in your face.

Okay, then you listen to me.

But why dwell on that? We're home.

Lana. Lana, we got the face-off. Hooray.

Son of a bitch!

Did you try "guest"?

Hmm. What? Don't listen to him.

MALORY: Oh, for-- Sterling, get your things.

sterling, get your things! We're leaving. Before this quack's office burns to the ground.

I doubt they'd keep it in here. ...in which we're still locked?

Although, neither is Riley. Ah, ah, ah, ah.