Found 960 results
31.7s
What did I tell you about talking to me? Nothing. You just said nothing about talking. You want me to have Cagney and fucking Lacey explain it to you? Cagney's coming down your fucking throat. Lacey, she's gonna come up your ass. I'm gonna meet them in the fucking middle... and play your heart like a fucking accordion. I'm gonna pump that shit until it pops. You Swedish bitch. You wouldn't dare. You gonna cry, you little Swiss fucking pussy? I'm not gonna cry. You're crying now! I'm not! It's so fucking hot! You know, just, let's leave Anton alone for now. Please. What's your name?
Spy
38.4s
Pull up my file... Jesus! Not my keyboard with your pinkeye-infected fingers! Why don't you just cry directly into my mouth while you're at it? It really is just an allergic reaction... Sit down. I'll do it. - Okay, I'm gonna go sit down. ELAINE: Rayna Boyanov. Majored in international law at Oxford. Top of her class. Been living in London for the past 10 years. We know she has been communicating with the heads of several terrorist organizations. Most ominously... Solsa Dudaev, the al-Qaeda-funded leader of the Chechen Martyrs' Brigade. We have compelling evidence that he has the machinery in place to get that nuke to New York in time for next week's UN General Assembly. I'm already packed. One of our sources was told she has taken up residence outside of Sofia. Go get her.
Spy
34.5s
ELAINE: We've intercepted chatter... that the weapon is still being offered to the highest bidder. Someone other than Boyanov knows where that nuke is. It's probably his daughter, Rayna. She's really the only person he's trusted. Jesus, Cooper, do you have pinkeye? Go home. You're going to infect everybody. Told you. No, it's not pinkeye, ma'am. It's just I'm having a bit of an allergic reaction. Well, I'm allergic to disgusting childhood illnesses, so stay away from me. Sorry. Anyway, you're right. After Boyanov's death, Rayna went to a safety deposit box at a DSK bank in Varna. The chatter picked up later that night. What do we know about her? I can pull up her file.
Spy
19.7s
Look at you and your tailored... Everything is cut right. And mine is like a lumpy pumpkin sack dress. Oh, come... It doesn't even have a label. Does not have a label. I think my mom made it. No, stop. I should get on my hands and knees and start scooping. Good God. Go easy on yourself. Okay. We're a perfect team. That's why we work. Yeah.
Spy
17s