All language subtitles for Traces.S02E04.WEBRip.x264-TG

Hey Kitty, where
are you? Hurry up!

Nothing.

Back door.

And then we had to line up in the
playground, like a fire drill.

- Whose bag was it?
- Second year.

Somebody saw it, screamed
"bomb" and that was it.

Day was over.

Anthony and Valerie Gemmell,

In accordance with the
Prevention of Terrorism Act

2000 Section 41,

I'm arresting you on suspicion

of causing explosions
and endangering life.

You do not have to say anything

but it may harm your defence
if you do not mention...

Just a siren.

Unexploded bomb

located in a bin outside.

Power it Out boxing gym.

The barrier's stuck.

What's going on?

- Mum?
- It's alright, chick.

I can't talk, Neil.

Where are you?

On campus. Trying to get out.

- Sarah...
- Kitty's in the car.

There's an unexploded bomb.

Alleyway off Flintock Street.

Shit.

- Mum?
- Are you out?

It's, it's all blocked.

- Fuck sake!
- Have you seen it?

- Have you seen the device?
- No.

Report's come in of
a big margarine tub

in a bin outside the boxing gym.

Witnesses say there's
a whitish grey smoke.

- Any smell?
- Yes.

Bleach. Strong.

Hydrogen peroxide. If there's
smoke, it might have failed but...

- Where are you?
- We've just picked up

our two letter-writers
over in Tayport.

So, unless they
have an accomplice,

I don't think they'd have
had time to plant it.

- Have they got phones on 'em?
- What?

Have you got their phones?

- Why?
- It's too risky.

They, they could
ring the bomb, Neil.

I'll call you back.

I've got his...

This is DCI McKinven. Pull over!

Get her phone! Hey!

Where's the phone?

Sarah, we got both phones.

- We're out.
- Jesus Christ.

Right. I've got it.

SO-15 are on board.

So we've got to get every diary.

Every photograph.
Every shopping list.

Let's see if they
wrote the letters.

Then we grill them, are there
any more bombs out there?

I'll get the coffees in.

It's gonna be a long night.

With Dundee residents
living in fear...

Police have made two
arrests in Tayport.

Meanwhile, another
device has been found

in an alleyway near
Tayside University.

The device, which has now been
safely deactivated by the bomb squad,

failed to detonate

and will be taken to a
specialist laboratory

- for further investigation.
- Is that you?

- Yep.
- Unconfirmed eye witness reports

described whitish-grey smoke...

Coming from the green
council-owned bin

outside city gym,
"Power It Out".

The four storey building
was packed with members

but all were
evacuated to safety,

with no casualties.

Investigations are continuing

into the incident

and disruption to
the road network...

Thank you.

Hey.

Why are you so tiny?

Can't you be a violin teacher

or somebody who works
at the garden centre?

- I'd really love that.
- I think we'd all love that. Apart from Mum.

Sorry everyone.

Alright. Compromise. Just
don't go in tomorrow.

Stay on the couch with
me and Dad can stay home

and we can all watch TV
and eat crisps all day.

Absolutely not.

No!

Don't answer it.

- Hey.
- Bad time?

- Mum?
- No sorry. I'm being wrestled by a 15 year old.

You alright?

Yeah. All fine.

Are you alright,
more to the point?

- Yeah. We're fine.
- Get off the phone.

- Sounds like it.
- Get off.

- Talk tomorrow?
- Sure.

Bye.

We're getting it tested, but I
can see the writing indentation.

'White ethnocite' is as clear
as day on the first blank page.

We found it in the
Gemmill's flat.

Any other chemicals?
Bomb-making gear?

Nothing obvious.

Something interesting.

No broadband at their flat.

- What?
- No computer, no laptop.

Azra says, there's no email
address buried in the dark web.

They're completely analogue.

So if they are
controlling an accomplice,

a delivery rider maybe,
how are they doing it?

There was one more thing.

No family photographs.

Nothing.

Don't waste too much
time on the letters.

We need to know about the bombs.

Good evening Mrs Gemmell.

Mrs Gemmell?

Excuse me?

Could you turn back
around, please Mrs Gemmell?

- What was your role in this, Mrs Gemmell?
- Boss.

- Am I glad to see you?
- Gavin.

- Where are we?
- Here.

Mrs Gemmell?

She won't even look at him.

Christ.

I'm obliged to inform you, this
interview is being observed

by Detective
Superintendent Gavin Blair

and Detective Chief
Superintendent Tom McBride

of SO-15.

SO-15?

Counter terrorism to you.

Big guns.

Mr Gemmell. Are there
any more bombs out there?

Who's been helping
you plant these bombs?

How did you know how
to make these devices?

Okay...

We received two
anonymous letters

claiming to have been written

by the people responsible for

planning and executing
the two Dundee explosions.

As you know, there was a match with
your DNA on one of the letters,

bringing us to your address.

What can you tell us
about those letters?

Okay, let's see then.

I'm gonna read out a passage
from the first letter.

I'd like you to write
down what I say.

This is a manifesto of race.

One race.

The Dundee we know and
love will be cleaner,

more potent,

more White.

Despite yesterday's arrests,

police are asking people
to remain vigilant.

More witness reports
of white smoke...

You've got me thinking now.

Are Mia and Lily going in today?

No.

Mum, it'll probably be fine.

'Probably' doesn't
quite work for me.

You're staying at home today.

You look terrible.

Thanks.

I got three hours sleep.

Well, if you can call it sleep.

Three hours lying down,
feeling sick to my stomach.

Who are they?

Vile, vitriolic racists

that suck all air from a room.

- Is that the unexploded bomb?
- Yup.

I don't need to
walk in with you.

- Good field trip?
- Productive.

- Jean the Dean's looking for you.
- Oh, good.

Good.

Kathy here?

Not yet.

She probably needed the sleep.

Pia cancelled her trip.

Kathy's just broken,
not surprisingly.

It all happened
while we were away.

You should have seen her.

So, we just need to be really
careful with her today.

I bought chocolates.

- There she is.
- Jean.

I cast my eye over the
time allocation survey

- and had a question.
- Of course.

Santorini? A talk?

Oh, the Forensic
Science Symposium?

You were on the podium
for, what, an hour?

Trip was six days.

Day to get there.
Day to get back.

- Conference was four days. My talk was on day two.
- Right.

So who paid for you to be squirreled
away in a white, clifftop hotel

for four days?

It was money earned
through case work.

A budget that SIFA
can draw from.

It didn't come from your pot.

You see? I'm getting to know
what you do and how you do it.

See you later for bubbles
at the fundraiser!

Hello. Prof Finn McGuinness.

Forensic Explosives Laboratory

for Professor Sarah Gordon.

Of course. Welcome!

Here's your card.

And you'll need the
code for the keypad.

Down the corridor.
First door on the left.

Lovely. Thank you.

I'm so glad they sent you.

- Want to see a bomb?
- Sure thing.

In your letter you mention

the making and planting the bomb

that exploded at the St
Barnabus church hall.

You say it was your
wife who planted it.

We've been through this.

Tell me again.

How did she get to
the church hall?

I did it with help, of course.

Our soldiers are everywhere.

Together, we will sing our song to
the masses, the masses will listen.

We, the leaders of this army,

are incubating a force that
has already inspired so much.

What you got on IT?

There is no IT for these two.

No email address. No messaging
apps on their phones. Nothing.

So, how are they instructing
this army of theirs, eh?

They're lying about
her planting the bomb,

so someone must have
planted it for them.

That's what I thought.

But then we got an ANPR

on Anthony and Valerie's
vehicle near the church hall

but it's an hour and 45 minutes
after the bomb went off.

Nothing before.

So, what were they doing there

at 8:45 in the evening?

After the explosion?

You and your wife
mention 'an army'?

Will they continue
with your work?

While you're both in custody?

Of course.

Are there bombs planted now?

Who helped you make this?

It's a partly-detonated
bucket device.

A third bomb in the campaign.

You've told us you're
not working alone.

DNA samples gone to the lab?

Yep. And the CT scans are ready.

Okay. The first head we
recovered from the loch.

No sign of fracture. Or trauma.

Male. Young adult.

And our second, wrapped head.

- On first glance?
- Male.

Major trauma. Two
impacts. Blow to the front

and then a blow to the back.

Blunt force or sharp?

- Blunt.
- Good. Which came first?

How can anyone know that?

Puppe's Law.

First blow. The skull fractures.

So, trace the fracture lines coming
from the centre point of trauma.

Then, second blow.

The skull fractures,

but no fracture lines will
cross the path of the first.

Hence we can usually
tell, which came first.

- Wow!
- Next one.

This was meant to
cause a lot of damage.

Someone's stepped up their game.

Big time.

Louise, could you get this
phone component off to the lab

for DNA and fingerprint
enhancement?

And ask DCI McKinven
to come here.

Of course.

Louise? Wasn't there a piece of
gaffa tape found near the first bomb.

I'll go find a picture of it.

Now let's see what
these two can tell us?

Let's look at this head first.

Wrapped. No body found.

Two injury sites confirmed.

Decapitation has occurred.

Marks on the bone

consistent with those
left by a cutting tool.

Compared to this skull, where
we see no cutting marks,

therefore in this case,

natural disarticulation
has occurred.

Head was found near the body.

Confirmed as male. But younger.

We've got some fusion

on his femur.

He was still growing.

I'd say roughly aged
between 16 and 22.

- So, came apart in the water?
- Yes.

The differential decomposition
between the wrapped head

and everything else indicates

that these bones and
skull, all belong together.

This body naturally
disarticulated

because it was in
water for so long.

Given this was
freshwater, not salt,

I'd put PMI at
five to 12 months.

Now the wrapped head

is something
completely different.

The wrapping has provided near
perfect protection from predation.

There's something else here.

A snake cut clean in half.

Can't be many of those around.

Fancy taking my place on the SO-15
and FEL advisory meet this year?

Oh my God,

you will never live that down.

My hands were so sweaty, I couldn't
press the power point clicker.

I'll go.

I'm Finn.

From the Forensic Explosives
Laboratory at Porton Down.

DCI McKinven.

- Sorry, we're just...
- Neil, Finn, Finn, Neil.

It's a bucket bomb.
Homemade device,

similar to that used in the
failed Parsons Green attack.

A combination of flour

and hydrogen
peroxide is the fuel,

creating this
dough-like mixture.

TATP is then placed in a tube

and thrust in to the dough.

Plus a vibrating phone
component and battery,

which means the device can be
called up from a standard phone.

The vibration in the phone

triggers the detonation.

Which makes it possible for
the bomber to leave the scene

and detonate from afar.

So why didn't it go off?

TATP. The detonator.

It burnt rather than exploded.

It's an unstable chemical.

A lot can go wrong.

TATP has been used

in many attacks in recent years.

Including in devices linked
to Islamic extremism.

- This isn't Islamic extremism.
- Sure?

Can you rule it out?

We can provide a tentative
identification of peroxide brands.

Sales of hydrogen peroxide
can trigger red flags

and vendors have to report
odd purchasing patterns.

One other thing. I'm,
I'm not a phone expert

but to me this
looks like a Nokia.

Cheap, available, anonymous,
no apps, no camera.

We could maybe get a serial
number off this and ID the phone.

Thanks.

Well, I can get Azra
to help me with that.

A pocket full of rocks.

That's your extra weight.

Not just waterlogged.
Check the other pocket.

Full of 'em.

Okay, we've got a match on the
DNA database for the wrapped head.

A decapitated male body
with a snake tattoo

was found 11 months ago,

- on a beach near Pendower Lighthouse in Cornwall.
- Wow!

They're sending through
the CT scan of the body.

Well, then. It's
well-preserved. Frozen perhaps.

- What about our other remains?
- Nothing yet.

How do you know him?

- Phil?
- Finn?

Known him for years. We've worked
on research projects together.

Right.

Him being here makes it possible
for me to stay on the case.

I know.

I'm glad you're safe.

Kitty heard your voice.
She said it sounded wobbly.

Wobbly's right.

I'm okay.

Good.

We are in broad daylight.

I'm not playing games with you.

No games.

Azra.

Where are you?

I've got something
on Dundeats Riders.

Just looking at the new bomb.

I need you back here.

You're gonna love this.

Impressive, Azra.

- Sorry, everyone.
- Finally.

Were you locked up in
a high security lab?

Right. We have results.

Three food delivery companies
operating in Dundee.

Dundeats, Chowcart
and Deliverdish.

Four hundred and fifty
delivery riders in total.

I've obtained
names and usernames

for all riders from
the delivery companies.

From there I searched
and recovered images

for all riders you
didn't interview.

Usual social media routes,

but some were from
university blogs,

some from Signal,

Spotify profile pictures,

uh, MyFitnessPal, Amazon
Wishlist, whatever.

Everyone's got a
photograph online,

even when they think they don't.

Now, you will notice

that some of the
riders are a green dot.

Well, they work for
all three companies.

Some are a blue dot.

And they work for two companies.

But 31 riders, the red dots,

they just work

for one company.

Interestingly,

those who only work
for only one company,

only work for Dundeats.

No one just works for
Chowcart or Deliverdish?

Precisely. Here go
on. You can click it.

Now it could be random.

But, I thought,

why would that be?
Who are these riders?

What is it about Dundeats?

We've met some of these guys.

So go back to them. Where
are they? Who are they?

Are the Gemmells
controlling them?

Azra. This is incredible.

Of the 31 riders,

I've marked 17 with an I.

All the Ls were logged on

on the nights of the bombings.

The bomber wouldn't log on. That'd
be the dumbest thing he could do.

Or the cleverest.

Or they were just working?

Some work all hours.

Or maybe they're just loyal.

They like working for Dundeats.

Or maybe Dundeats is the oldest
company and has the most lax security.

All delivery
companies, nationally,

are in the process of upgrading
their security protocol.

Now, some systems have improved,

but there are those
riders who signed up

before those systems
were in place.

So in a new company, you
can't get away with subbing

- for instance.
- Subbing?

It's when a rider

loans out their log-in details.

The named rider might
not be the actual rider.

So how do we know if any of these Dundeats
riders are who they say there are?

- We don't.
- So, all this...

Sorry to interrupt.

Just got back from the school where
Valerie Gemmell used to teach.

Only she's not known
there as Mrs Gemmell.

She's known as Mrs Callanach.

Kept her ex-husband's name.
Continuity with the kids.

- Mrs what?
- Callanach.

Azra. Can I...

I've just seen a Callanach.

Come on.

There.

Christ. Is that her son?

He's doing their
dirty work for them.

There's your digital link.

No wonder she denied having a kid
if she's protecting her own son.

Bring him in.

Does the name Rory Callanach
mean anything to you?

No comment.

Why did you deny the existence
of your son, Mrs Gemmell?

No comment.

Is it because your son,

Rory Callanach is the technological
brain of your little outfit?

Allowing you and your husband
to be completely analogue?

No comment.

They haven't got the
balls to do this.

- Admirable.
- What?

Well, you protect
them. They protect you.

I wouldn't protect him.

- Why not?
- He's a racist dick.

- And you're not? A racist?
- No.

I'm not a racist.

Okay.

So, maybe it was Anthony's idea?

Oh, he'd love the glory.

Considers himself to be
an old school fascist.

Educated. Erudite.

'A gentleman' from
a previous time.

She has,

for reasons nobody understands,

taken on his poison.

When was the last
time you saw your mum?

I don't know.

Summer before last?

Her birthday, I think.

I had a row with Anthony.

It all kicked off. That was it.

Rory, we're searching your flat.

You're quite techy.

We've already
picked up all sorts.

Two laptops. Hard drives.

Your mother and step father
don't even own a computer.

You think that's
where I come in?

It's a convenient estrangement.

My mother doesn't want
to know me, Detective.

Why would she?

She knows her husband
makes my skin crawl.

We have a CCTV image

of a Dundeats delivery rider

close to two of the bomb sites.

- It wasn't me.
- You were logged on all three nights.

I was just doing my job.

Delivering fried chicken to a bloke
in a static caravan out at Kilmany.

Five nights on the trot.
I was there every night.

He was a big tipper.

I'm no bomber, Detective.

I work for a living. That's it.

I mean, it's harsh.

There's no care. No loyalty.

It's lonely.

No real connection with anyone.

But it does the job.

It pays the rent.

His alibi checks out.

He was out at
Kilmany every night.

Rory Callanach wasn't
anywhere near the bomb sites.

And there's nothing on his
laptops to suggest any contact

between Valerie and
Anthony in recent months.

Last phone call to Valerie
was on her birthday,

19 months ago.

He's telling the truth.

The Dundeats thing,
it's a coincidence.

He was horrified. To have
any of this levelled at him.

There's nothing at his flat.

No bomb-making gear. No bleach.

Hydrogen Peroxide.

Does that rule him out
of making the bomb?

I can't confirm that.

What can you tell us?

Only that the device
is more sophisticated,

but there are parts that
didn't seem to work,

which suggests some

lack of knowledge
by the bomb maker.

If it had worked, it would
have caused loss of life.

But, I can't tell you who
did or didn't make them.

Charge them and get on with
finding the real bombers.

You, Anthony Gemmell...

Valerie Gemmell,
whilst acting together

in a racially aggravating
manner, which caused,

or was intended to cause

alarm and distress
to the general public

are charged with
wasting police time.

We dropped the ball
focussing on those two.

We had to see that through.

- They weren't nothing.
- Aye, I know. I didn't mean...

I know. I know.

I look at my baby

and feel this quiet dread.

This nausea.

Of what kind of hate's
gonna come her way.

But you're right.

Our bomber has had two days
with no-one on their back.

And they'll have been
busy, I promise you.

Never really
noticed them before.

But now, everywhere I
look, there they are.

It's uncanny.

It's some life, isn't it?

"No care. No loyalty. Lonely.

No real connection
with anybody".

So, Cornish police are coming
up to collect the tattooed head.

Nothing more for us there.

But we've got DNA back
on the other parts.

Confirmed that they
belong together,

but no ID flagged
on the DNA database.

So, no one's missed
this guy. At all.

Never reported. Nope.

- Wow.
- Happens.

We'll need to send the CT of
the skull and mandible off

for a facial reconstruction.

Someone must know this guy...

I hope.

Do they match?

Looks like they might, yes.

It's good in theory. But
it's more of the same.

The lab weren't able to recover
any fingerprints or DNA.

And I'm getting
nothing at my end.

Whoever made this bomb
was clean as a whistle.

Send this off to the lab.

If he tied this knot himself,
there may be hair in here.

We can do some isotopic
analysis on his toe nails.

Find out what he ate, drank.

Where he lived for the last
six months of his life.

No shoe size marked, but
we've measured size 11 feet.

There's a small surgical scar on
the front of his left foot. See?

It's a bit of a long shot, but
we could try medical records.

We'll deal with the rest
of the body in the morning.

Much as I would prefer to
hang out with this guy,

rather than stand around
with a bunch of suits

and a chocolate fountain.

- Come on. You might have a good time.
- That's doubtful.

Uniform just a found a
rucksack. Near the loch.

A few personal effects in there.

We're hoping for an ID.

I'll put a call out after
Erika mentioned a bag.

I knew it.

Where is she?

Kathy?

Don't make me go out
there. It's full of veneer.

What are you wearing?
It's a fundraiser.

Excuse me?

Sorry, I didn't mean...

Oh, you didn't mean,
"a better outfit

would help deliver the
library funding deficit?"

You know what I meant.
Why are you so cross?

Pia's not coming over.

What?

She cancelled. Changed
her mind. Met someone.

Oh God, I'm sorry.

That's so disappointing.

- Don't be sorry.
- I'm.

I'd heard you needed some TLC.

- Janine picked something up from Erika.
- What?

Janine was very
discreet. I promise.

Erika told Janine?

Erika wants to be privy to all your
bells and whistles. Of course she does.

She's, she's a PhD student.
She thinks you're superhuman.

Bigger question is, why are
you discussing your love life

with Erika on a field trip?

You have got to be kidding me.

Beaming live via our
School of Science Media Hub

I welcome you all
here this evening.

To our universe of
scientific brilliance.

Where we cater for thunderbolts
and lightning strikes

every day of the week.

We're here to thank you,

our generous sponsors,

for getting us to a place where
we're only 17,000 pounds away

from commencing work on
our state of the art,

School of Science library.

A world class facility,

feeding the brilliant
young scientific minds,

and giving them the
space and nourishment

they need to flourish.

And we don't stop there.

I'm also proud to
announce tonight,

my vision for a new
undergraduate course

in Forensic Science.

Funded by you,

under the stewardship of
Professor Kathy Torrance

and Director of SIFA,
Professor Sarah Gordon,

a scientist able to
sprinkle her pixie dust

on everything she touches.

So here she is,

to say a few words
about our shared vision

and the work that SIFA do.

Professor Sarah Gordon.

- Did you approve that?
- Nope.

Good evening.

Thank you, Jean,
for your kind words.

Since her arrival, Jean
has been a champion

of our work here at SIFA.

She's already proved
herself to be someone

who can set her own strategy,

as well as having
an understanding

that we're not
easy, us academics.

Like a duck to water.

Thank you, Jean.

- You alright?
- Mmm-hmm.

Come in, sit.

I'll leave you to it.

Come on, grab a glass.
It's a good bottle.

I'm alright. Thanks.

- It was great day.
- Aye.

You did well.

Did you look at me, and think

there she is,

I'm married to her?

I did.

What did Super say?

Hmm, I think they're
all a bit in love.

I need to work.

And now I have pleasure
of introducing my

and one of the world's leading.

Forensic Anthropologists,

Professor Kathy Torrance.

Good evening.

Space looks good.

Especially the fairy lights.
Must be the pixie dust.

Wow, Jean.

I love that you think

we're fighting the thunderbolts and
lightning strikes, day in day out.

But I may need to clear
something up there.

As a scientist,

those thunderbolts,
they do come.

But every 30 years.

So what do we do in
the mean time? Well...

It's pretty uneventful.

Spark-free zone.

We focus on chemical
and biological analysis.

We find out what evidence means.

We look for ways to read "data",

interpret results,
write our report

and sometimes

present and communicate
our evidence in court.

It's a little dry.
A little slow.

But it is fantastic.

So, there really
is no pixie dust.

Just wanted to clear that up.

And the library is
going to be amazing,

so thanks for your
money. Good night.

What was that?

With the failure of
this latest device,

has the Dundee bomber
been driven underground?

Will the bombers ineptitude
lead to an arrest?

Police are calling on members of the public
to come forward with any information...

Thanks.

Is that an apology?

Sarah, Jean stood up there
and misrepresented what we do.

It wasn't the time or
the place to correct her.

Couldn't let it go.

- Well, I guess, that's where you and I differ.
- Yeah.

She doesn't know anything about science!
Don't you find that bewildering?

The Dean of the
School of Science?

You don't like her. And last night
was a chance to play that out.

You undermined her in
front of the sponsors!

It was deeply unprofessional.

Sorry.

- Are you?
- Yes!

I kind of believe you.

I'll fully believe you when
you apologise to Jean as well.

I tried already. She's off
sick. Too many bubbles.

You made her sick.

- Hey.
- Hey.

For you. Product design
threw this together.

This little pincer bit is for removing
tissue, without disturbing the pigs.

Great. Just what we've
been waiting for.

- Kathy?
- Yeah?

- You okay?
- Yeah.

Hey.

Loved your speech last night.

No. You are in no
position to discuss

anything you may
have seen or heard

or understood to be
true while we were away.

No position. Do you hear me?

Never do it again.

I'm coming for you, Holly.

So, you are our mystery body.

Hello Euan.

Hey.

What?

Do you recognise him?

No.

Nineteen, six foot two,

size eleven feet, white male.

We got all that right.

Sorry, but...

One of the bodies in the loch.

School of Science. Physics.

He went to this university.

His name was Euan Macmillan.

What? A student?

Looks like he filled his
pockets full of rocks,

tied his feet together

and jumped into a
fast-moving mountain river.

There'll be a fatal
accident enquiry.

Do we know anything
about him? Why?

Why did he kill himself

or why did nobody
report him missing?

According to Charlie,

Euan told his Mum, he was heading
off grid for a few months.

He said he needed a
break from his course

and was taking a
sabbatical from university.

She said he'd travelled
before. He took off sometimes.

He just liked to break from
the noise. The technology.

He was that kind of kid. So,
she didn't report him missing.

But what did he
tell the university?

Because this place didn't
report him missing either.

Why was that?

Ten.

Eight.

He's a seven.

Jumped up, pumped
up brainless dick.

Whore!

Whore!

Whore!

Whore!

Whore!

Okay, you bastards.

Here I come.

Where are you Holly?

There you are.

Time to meet your handsome date.

Special delivery.

Oh, no, no, no.
That's not my guy,

that's just an
ugly piece of shit

I'd never let inside my panties.

Don't worry bitch,
you're such a dog.

I wouldn't even rape you.

- Hey.
- Hey.

Two four four two. Give us a few minutes,
man, this order's only just come in.

No problem. I'll lock my bike.

Hey.

Don't leave your box
here. Stick it over there.

Have fun on your date, Holly.

Guys you've got about two
minutes left of being pretty.

Enjoy!

Bye bye.

Woah.