Mortdecai:
[calling through the door]
Johanna. Are you all right in there, darling? It is I, Charlie... Your husband.
Johanna:
What is it?
Mortdecai:
Oh, moon of my delight. This is your own personalized Sheik of Araby who seeks admission into your tent. I have come to carry you off to the burning desert, and work my greasy will upon you under the tropical stars. Send your camel to bed, damn it!
Johanna:
[sighs]
My Sheik, does this mean you have excommunicated that mustache of the Prophet?
Mortdecai:
...I'll trim it... Darling. I am embarking on a very dangerous escapade, from which I may not well return. And it is customary in these situations for, you know, a proper send-off. Quick session of congress. Sink the Bismarck, if you will. And by the way, did I mention it is a matter of national security.
Johanna:
Mmm.
[Mortdecai forces his way in]
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 07:26
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