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Ahem. As I was saying, perhaps another macaroon ... |
Thank you, Steed. |
Sir August ... ? Sir August ... ? |
Eh? In here! |
Quite a collection. |
If nature gives a man a collector's mind, it doesn't matter what he collects. Butterflies. Old China. Penny farthings. A true collector grows more obsessive as the years pass. |
Your voice it's so familiar ... |
We have met ... |
Congratulations, Mrs. Peel. You have been a worthy opponent. You have tracked us down. You are within an ace of winning. |
This isn't a game. |
Quite right, but we still make the rules. |
Rules are made to be broken. |
People, too. |
Then who wins? |
You and I. Together. But first you must confront your greatest enemy. Who could that be, Mrs. Peel? The answer is obvious ... |
May I help you, madam ... |
Mr. John Steed, please. |
I'm afraid that's impossible. |
Impossible? |
You are female? |
As you see. |
Then you can't come in. |
I have an appointment. |
No women. Not in Boodles. Not since 1922. |
Really what happened in 1922? |
I've come to apply for membership in Brolly |
You don't get rain like you used to in England. A good shower that's the ticket. Stiffens resolve, puckers the spirit, quells the nambypamby in a man. |
I so agree. How did you acquire a taste for it? |
Out in India. So characterforming for the British. Not the heat. Good Lord, no. The rain, dash it. A good monsoon. Fifteen inches overnight. A whole week of lovely rain. I remember one summer in Jaipur ... |
You |
Have we met? |
You mean you don't recall?? |
Ah, beautiful. Just as he promised. |
Promised? Who promised? |
There, look! |
Mrs. Peel ... Come quickly. Brolly's been betrayed! I'll tell you everything ... The weather's getting worse and worse ... they're after me ... coming for me ... come quickly! |
Sir August...? What now? |
I want you to say the first thing that comes into your head when I say these words. Do you understand ... ? Blue ... |
... bottle ... |
Red ... |
... head ... |
Knight ... |
Black... |
... death ... |
Love... |
... death ... |
Flower ... |
... power ... |
Nature ... |
... preserve... |
Secret ... |
... love... |
Hope... |
... love ... |
Fear ... |
... love ... |
Peter ... |
How long have I been here? |
Three days. |
He said if it vanished, he'd know it was ... you who betrayed him. He took a huge risk. The ultimate test. |
So I'm still ... |
Would that I could say the Same. |
Ah, but you haven't see the real me. Watch closely ... |
We're not yet open for business, I'm afraid. |
Shame. I was recommended. By a friend. |
Really? |
Sir August Merryweather? I was looking for something relaxing. Say, a Tuscan hillside in June? |
Normally, we'd be eager to oblige |
Seriously? |
Of course. Natural weather delivered to your door on demand. Down your phoneline. For limited periods. |
You don't say. How real does it feel? |
As real as you wish. Hot or cold. Humid or dry. Anything you like. Within reason. |
There are limits? |
The technology is brand new. Soon it will be more powerful. We anticipate a huge demand. Leave us your number. We'll be in touch. |
No need. I'll call again. |
So, Scott, why don't we start with you. Why are you here? |
Well, it's kind of weird. |
We don't judge here. |
OK. Well, I just really met my Dad for the first time three days ago. He was partially frozen for thirty years. I never knew him growing up. He comes back and now he wants me to take over the family business. |
And how do you feel about that? |
I don't wanna take over the family business. |
What do you want to do, Scott? |
I don't know. I was thinking, maybe I'd be a vet or something, cause I like animals and stuff. |
We don't label people here, Scott. |
No, he's really evil. |
Scott. |
I just think, like, he hates me. I really think he wants to kill me. |
OK, Scott, no one really wants to "kill" anyone here. They say it, but they don't mean it. |
Oh, hello Vanessa. How was the flight? |
Great. |
How's Austin? |
He's asleep. |
You didn't... |
Oh, God no, I made him sleep on the couch. |
I'm proud of you. |
Why? |
Because you managed to resist Austin Power's charms. |
Well, God knows he tried, but I've been rather firm with him, Mummy. You didn't tell me he was so obsessed with sex. It's bizarre. |
You can't judge him by modern standards. He's very much a product of his times. In my day he could have any woman he wanted. |
What about his teeth? |
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