Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Listen to me!
[breathing heavily]
She's fine. ‐ She's fine.
‐ Ooh.
‐ Yeah.
About the same?
Listen to me.
MOIRA: Oh, come on.
‐ I wonder what the voltage is
[Martha whimpering]
Has he offered you something warm to drink?
[door dings]
[honking continues]
‐ Yes.
She also said,
‐ Nah, she would.
So you'll probably end up with a scar.
‐ Like God carried her off.
He'd want her to call.
Are you all right?
She has a chance for something better.
‐ That's fine. They'll roast up great.
OFJOSEPH: That's awful.
ELEANOR: Good.
pulmonologist.
Traffic accident.
MAN #2: Move your fucking car!
[grunts]
‐ Yeah.
‐ For your hands.
‐ All right.
‐ Praise be.
Aces.
[gasping softly]
Cora's not going.
But not like that.
‐ She makes bombs.
MARTHA: I did nothing wrong. I... I did nothing wrong.
or worse?
Yeah.
‐ She's...
‐ Okay. Shh.
‐ She had another job
[footsteps receding]
Straight ahead. Go through there.
They're waiting for you.
[shushing]
‐ Em?
through the Quinns' backyard
‐ All right, my love.
It's delicious.
[melancholic music]