04x14 - k*ll House

[bunniefuu]

♪

Animal.

(grunting)

(over throat-mic): Both tangos in Echo-1 are down.

Perimeter is covered.

See you fellas on the other side.

Roger that, Cowboy.

It's a trap.

Abort, abort.

(expl*si*n)

(indistinct yelling)

Move, move, move!

Cowboy, abort! Repeat, abort!

(man yelling in Spanish)

(rustling, blade unsheathing)

♪ NCIS: LA 4x14 ♪

k*ll House
Original air date on February 5, 2013

♪

SAM: You know what?

This is an open-plan workspace.

What are you doing?

Hitting reset.

Getting a fresh perspective.

Good morning! If you...

What are you... No, no.

No. What are you doing?

You can't do that.

You can't just sit in another man's desk.

We're a team.

One for all and all for one.

This is an open-plan workspace.

That's like sleeping with a man's girlfriend.

Actually, it's not anything like sleeping with his girlfriend.

DEEKS: Hey, is that for me?

What the crap?

What...

What the hell is that?

It looks like a box full of Mind-Your-Own-Damn-Business.

(chuckles) That's clever.

You know what else is clever?

Me, Googling the return address.

Watch and learn.

Isn't that against the law, Deeks?

We are the law. Besides, we're a team, right? All for one and one for all and whatever you said before.

(clears throat)

Hi.

What you doing there?

Me?

Nothing. I was just...

Got a box and I was keeping the open-plan workspace flow...

I don't...

He was clocking the return address.

He was gonna Google it.

No, that's not true.

I wouldn't Google it 'cause that's illegal and we're the law.

Whatever happened to privacy?

We got to get back to basics.

We do.

No more secrets, no more hidden agendas, no more suspicions.

You know, we got to embrace each other.

That's right. What's in the box?

Mind your own damn business.

Good call.

(a la Brad Pitt in Seven):

What's in the box?!

Maybe one day I won't be the rain on your parade, but today's not it.

Let's go.

Video is helmet cam footage from Reynosa, Mexico.

0600 today.

The home of Luis Cisneros.

CALLEN: He took over the Molina Cartel.

Built it back into an empire.

NELL: He also helped Hezbollah set up training camps south of our border.

Joint Special Operations Command sent an elite unit to capture him.

(g*nf*re on video)

But it turned into an ambush.

Cisneros knew they were coming.

Somebody had to leak the intel.

The ambush was a symptom, the intel leak is the disease.

JSOC put all its ops on hold until we pinpoint the breach.

You have to have Top Secret clearance to know about an op like this.

That'll narrow the list of suspects.

We cross-referenced people with clearance against JSOC employees.

We stuck to those involved with the Cisneros op, and we ended up with the mission's tactical role players.

Who?

Civilian contractors who role-play the enemy during training.

TRPs.

So they mimic bad guys?

They're not part of the standard m*llitary curriculum.

Only elite units have budgets for this type of training.

These are the tactical role players who simulated Cisneros and his men during prep for last night's raid.

SAM: I know guys who contracted them to train for a counter-t*rror1st op.

After a month in their k*ll house, Al Qaeda was a walk in the park.

KENSI: These aren't your run-of-the-mill civilian contractors.

They're ex-m*llitary, former pro fighters, martial artists.

Guys with a special affinity for v*olence.

GRANGER: I want a closer look.

Undercover op has been authorized.

You'll be a SpecOps unit prepping for another raid on Cisneros.

So we're gonna go train with guys that make Al Qaeda look like a walk in the park?

This isn't exactly going to the gym for a pickup game.

I've done this kind of high-risk training before.

Guys get injured, some of them get k*lled.

We knew it was a possibility.

It's the only way to get close enough to see if they're the leak.

Rain on our parade?

More like a freaking tsunami.

CALLEN: If it seems like the TRPs are trying to m*rder you, it means they're doing their job right.

Do we get a safety word?

What do you think?

I was hoping for a "yes""

This isn't one of your bondage sessions, Deeks.

(laughs) She's kidding, but if you hear me yell "noodles"" that means I'm in trouble.

If I hear you yell "noodles, "

I'm gonna sh**t you myself.

The only way to get through this in one piece is to work as a team.

You'll be using weapons that have been modified to fire Simunitions.

Sims.

Real b*ll*ts with paint-filled tips that explode on impact.

In the k*ll house, we treat everything like a live encounter; we respond at full speed.

That means punches, kicks, g*ns, knives.

Great. That means we can break in my new training blades.

No edge, but, uh, they'll leave a mark.

Just to clarify, (clears throat)

this ain't paintball.

I've never allowed myself to be sh*t by one of those.

Mr. Deeks, I advise you to do the same.

Good luck.

The TRPs are waiting.

No welcoming committee?

Training protocol.

Keep the good guys and bad guys separate.

(low, indistinct talking)

KENSI: TRPs simulate hostile combatants.

We will treat them accordingly.

(a la Arnold Schwarzenegger): Ja, crush your enemies, see them driven before you, hear the lamentations of their women.

Conan the Barbarian?

What? The three of you don't have a monopoly on kicking ass.

ERIC: They've got a closed-circuit camera network.

Your button-cams will be our eyes.

CALLEN (over comm): Roger that, Eric.

I wish we had more time to train Kensi and Deeks before this.

They're about to get tossed into the deep end.

We'll be there to help them swim.

DEEKS: I feel like we've been invited to the big boy table.

You nervous?

No.

Maybe a little.

That's okay.

Me, too.

Let's gear up.

You, uh, got any pregame cheer for us, coach?

Trust your training.

(g*ns clicking)

(recording over speaker): Your unit has 90 seconds to secure sensitive computer technology located inside the k*ll house.

Commencing in three, two, one.

(buzzer sounds)

Let's do what we do.

Clock's ticking. Split up.

Clear it room by room.

HETTY: Isolate Mr. Callen's button-cam.

(g*nshots)

(g*nshots)

(thudding)

(distant g*nshots)

(wood creaking)

Laptop's secure.

The drill should be over.

(woman groaning)

(woman groaning)

(woman yells)

No, don't k*ll me!

Don't k*ll me!

Let go of the girl!

No!

(g*nshots)

(buzzer sounds)

Best of the best, huh?

Somewhere, Granger is laughing.

Can't hear it.

We're dead.

Oh! It's not as bad as getting sh*t for real, but I would rather get thrown down a flight of steps into a wall, which-- in case anybody's wondering-- also happened to me today.

Is that when you yelled, "Noodles"?

No. (inhales sharply) Maybe.

Could have been a reflex reaction.

I can't believe we lost.

Our mission objective wasn't clear.

Was it secure the computer technology, or rescue the hostage?

If we learn from it and come back stronger, it's not a loss.

That was definitely a loss.

Might even qualify as an ass-whipping.

Difference of opinion.

What would Luis Cisneros call it?

Talk pretty tough for a civilian.

They're antagonizing the TRPs to get reactions.

Reactions reveal personality traits.

Traits we'll use to build suspect profiles for this case.

Hey, the paint doesn't lie.

Your team fell apart.

You got smoked.

KENSI: Does anybody want to put a leah on him before we go another round right here?

Somebody's a poor loser.

You take it this bad when you got cut from the cheerleading squad, too?

DEEKS: What part are you role-playing now, huh?

Team super douche?

(laughs)

DEEKS: How's that working out for you?

Loved your little fun house, by the way.

That was a treat.

It didn't help your last team, either.

Stow it, Parish.

ERIC: His name is Chad Parish.

He's only been with the team for two months.

Former San Diego SWAT officer.

Discharged due to insubordination.

You were dead the moment that you split up.

Fragmented force.

All we did was sit and wait for you to show us how you wanted to be k*lled.

Your mission objective was clear.

Secure the computer technology.

The computer technology was the hostage.

A human asset.

The laptop was just a laptop.

We were set up to fail.

I like to think of it as being set up to learn.

Let's break down the footage.

You entered to clear the house...

What do we have on this man?

(computer chirps)

His name is David Inman.

He's a former Force Recon Marine.

Holds a master's degree in Philosophy.

He began submitting bids for TRP contract work five years ago, and he's the group leader.

Anomalies in his service record?

Nothing so far.

Well, keep looking.

Everybody's got a weak spot.

You just have to keep cutting away until you find it.

INMAN: Talk me through it.

CALLEN: The drill was over.

That thinking changed your mindset.

Triggered a de-escalation of force.

We took a b*at to transition from as*ault to hostage rescue mode.

That b*at was a lapse in team unity.

I am seeing four separate operators, not a team.

Inman's single, no immediate family.

In fact, all the TRPs are single except for one: Parish.

You hesitated.

You let us inside your reactionary gap.

Game over.

Same thing probably happened to the unit Cisneros wiped out in Mexico.

Enough.

We're going off-site for the next session.

Location and objective will be uploaded to your cell phones.

Okay, Parish lives with his wife in Los Feliz.

Medical records indicate she's three months pregnant.

Parish mentioned Cisneros twice back there.

Wasn't by accident.

He was watching to see how we'd react.

Clearly trying to push our buttons, get a read on us.

Maybe he's the one who leaked the intel.

Or maybe he knows who did and wants a way out.

File says he's got a baby coming.

New mouth to feed could be financial motivation.

It could also be a reason to stay clean.

We got to separate him from the rest of the TRPs, have a talk.

Parish was right about one thing.

They kicked our asses in there.

Inman picked us apart during the debrief.

These guys are high-speed.

(Deeks groans)

What's wrong?

Well, my spleen, a couple vertebraes, for starters.

And then there's death, taxes, babies on airplanes.

You want a massage?

Yes.

Oh. What about Sam and Callen?

They may think it's inappropriate, open-plan, workspace behavior, but I do have a little bit right here.

It's just really tight.

If you want to just get that...

(laughs)

I now see that you're-you're mocking me, but I don't really care, 'cause I have this knot.

If you could just maybe get a thumb in there?

(grunts)

Aah! Fraggle Rock.

What was that?

A distraction injury.

See, now you don't feel the knot.

So you were doing me a favor then?

Was that the plan there?

'Cause, uh...

Yeah, no, that still hurts.

DEEKS: I recognize this place.

They closed it a year ago.

Looks like they papered over the windows.

Yeah, JSOC contracted Inman and his guys to modify the layout.

It matches Cisneros' favorite restaurant.

All right, now, guys, our objective is to enter the building, locate the role-player Cisneros, and take him alive.

How do we recognize him?

Red tactical vest.

What do we do after we snatch him?

Move him to our vehicle and get the hell out of Dodge.

Target will have security, same as the real thing.

The TRPs may throw us some curves, so, expect the unexpected.

SAM: Let's do it.

Hey.

Let's forget about the k*ll house this morning.

As far as any of us are concerned, it never happened.

Seriously?

Thought you were gonna go all Vince Lombardi on it.

That's all we get?

Okay.

Let's do it.

(indistinct, distant chatter)

(lively crowd chatter)

WOMAN: I'll be right with you.

Noncombatant, civilian role-players.

No casualties.

Target acquired.

Sam's eleven o'clock.

Oh, my God, they've got g*ns!

(panicked screaming)

(g*nf*re)

Deeks?

With pleasure.

(a*t*matic g*nf*re)

(grunts)

(grunting)

(g*nf*re, grunting)

Stay down!

(grunts)

Deeks, move!

Yeah!

Go!

CALLEN: Get out!

Move!

Go! Go!

Parking lot!

(grunts) Get in there.

(grunts)

DEEKS: In. Go.

We got a problem?

Car won't start.

Key doesn't work.

Got to go now!

Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!

They swapped the vehicle.

Cover your eyes!

Go!

Go! Move!

(coughing)

Tear gas? Seriously?

(coughing)

MAN: Medic!

Medic! Medic!

Get this mask off me.

Cut me loose. Take 'em off.

What happened?

It's one of our guys.

This is real, G.

(indistinct crowd chatter)

CALLEN: Talk to me, Inman.

What is it?

(coughs)

It's Parish.

He's dead.

LAPD thinks we're a JSOC unit here on a training exercise.

Parish suffered a broken neck from a bad fall.

Accident or m*rder?

We won't know till we get a closer look at the scene.

But even if Inman's crew was behind it, we still need proof.

Eric, I want to see the video cameras from this restaurant.

ERIC: Mm, closed-circuit network, no access.

But there might be a solution.

I'll keep you guys posted.

Inman's guys could make foul play look like a fatal slip and fall.

I mean, the m*llitary hires them to deceive elite SpecOps units.

They could do this with their eyes closed.

Well, looks like Parish wasn't the leak.

Or he was the leak, and Inman wanted to take care of it internally.

If you want to get rid of Parish, you doing it right here and now makes the perfect alibi.

How are you holding up?

My guys are shaken up pretty badly.

I mean, I'm shaken up, too.

Parish wasn't the most popular guy in the tribe, but he was still one of us.

Is this the first man you've lost?

In training, yeah.

We're cutting this contract short.

I want to see what LAPD turns up, and then, I'm gonna conduct my own investigation before going back to work.

I'm sorry.

We understand.

Command will find another TRP unit for your training.

And for the record, I hope that you nail Cisneros.

Those men he k*lled were friends of mine.

Kens?

Yeah?

Why don't you and Deeks take the SUV and follow him?

See where he goes.

What about you guys?

We have a crime scene to work.

Okay.

On it.

GRANGER: Well, good.

Yeah, I'll be in the boatshed in 20 minutes.

Bring him in.

Are you going to ask or just wait for me to melt under your Gorgon stare?

Men don't melt under Gorgon stares.

They turn to stone.

So, who are you bringing in?

David Inman.

If he knows we're investigating him, it compromises our mission.

This mission was compromised the moment Parish got his neck broken.

Jenna.

Hey.

Hi.

KENSI: Inman came straight to Parish's house.

Consoling Parish's wife, who is now a widow and three months pregnant.

It's going to take a while.

(clears throat)

Kens?

Yep?

What's in the box?

(laughs)

This again?

Fine. You don't want me to ask, I'll stop asking.

I don't care.

I don't need to know.

No, I just think you're very curious, that's all.

Because you keeping building it up so much.

Exactly. What's to say it won't be a big disappointment?

Well, at least then we'll know.

Kens.

(whispering): What's in the box?

No. The stakes are too high.

(indistinct conversation)

You know it's not going to change anything, right?

We're still talking about the box, right?

It's almost as if you sent it to yourself so we could have this exact conversation.

Oh, my God, you're diabolical.

You did send it to yourself, didn't you?

(screaming, crying): Get away from me!

Jenna!

DEEKS: Looks like that didn't go over well.

KENSI: Yeah, it usually doesn't.

(cell phone ringing)

Yeah.

All right, we gotta talk to her while it's still fresh.

Yeah, if she's angry at Inman, it's the perfect time to ask for her help.

I should have hit him harder.

(footsteps approaching)

DEEKS: Jenna Parish?

Yeah?

NCIS.

We're investigating your husband's death.

DEEKS: We need to know everything about your husband and these TRPs.

Maybe it'd help prove that his death wasn't an accident.

Chad was the black sheep of that group.

Not because of his skills.

It was his personal life.

Him and me.

What do you mean?

How many of Inman's guys are married?

How many of them have kids?

Right. None of them.

All they care about is their so-called tribe.

And when they're not training the m*llitary, they're training each other 20 hours a day.

There's always a new skill to learn or a new scenario to design.

The way of the warrior.

You can relate to them.

Yes, but we also know how much you have to give up to live that way, and it doesn't seem like your husband was ready to go that far.

Chad talked about quitting every day, but we needed the money.

Things were only going to get worse with their new training center.

What new training center?

Inman's building some...

High-tech place in New Mexico.

Chad said that it was Inman's dream project.

So, what have you guys found so far?

CALLEN: Well, we got six cameras in this room that may or may not have been active during the training run.

Now, we're thinking that Parish could have been m*rder*d because he didn't want to go along with leaking intel.

If there's footage, we need to see it.

Parish d*ed right there.

Body wasn't moved.

Well, then it may not matter whether the cameras were active or not.

Give me a second.

Maybe two.

(sighing): Okay, so CCTV cameras with 16-millimeter lenses.

That means 16-foot widths of view at 22.3 feet.

Can I ask you guys a question?

Go ahead.

Um, when do you stop being afraid of...

You know, busting into places, g*ns blazing?

When you trust your training.

That's easier said than done.

SAM: Back in the day, Hetty flew in an old friend of hers, and, uh...

He didn't look like much, didn't say much.

Then, one day, she told us the truth about who he was.

He was a headhunter-- literally.

He descended from a tribe of headhunters in the Philippines.

SAM: The Kalinga.

His father trained him.

His grandfather trained his father.

The way they fought was passed down like that for hundreds of years.

CALLEN: Everything they taught was battle-tested.

The tribe spilled its blood until they got it right.

That's why the Kalinga have no fear.

He trusted his training.

When he drew his w*apon, it wasn't just with one hand.

10, 000 hands drew that w*apon with him.

And Hetty flew a Kalinga headhunter to Los Angeles to tell you guys that?

Maybe she did it so we could tell you.

Hmm.

There is one camera blind spot in this room.

Parish d*ed in it.

We need proof he was m*rder*d.

If I can access the network directly, I may be able to determine who was closest to him when he d*ed.

(cell phone rings)

It's Hetty.

Yeah?

Mr. Callen, you and Mr. Hanna better get back here.

Why?

Assistant Director Granger has taken David Inman to the boatshed.

We're coming now.

Granger's about to interrogate Inman.

Go through the camera footage.

Let us know what you find.

Okay.

All right?

Yeah, I'm on it.

(door opens)

(sighs)

(door opens)

What the hell is this?

Exactly what it looks like.

You actually think that I had something to do with Parish getting k*lled?

No, I don't.

Didn't anyone ever tell you that a warrior wouldn't be caught dead in a tailored suit?

Yeah, you did, long time ago.

Too long.

Good to see you again, Granger.

You, too, pal.

Is this an interrogation or a date?

Inman's former Force Recon.

Force Recon was Granger's unit of choice for black ops.

(phone rings)

What's up, Callen?

Eric, run a deeper search on Inman's m*llitary record.

Look for any connection to Granger, no matter how tangential.

I have a hunch we'll find something.

Do tell.

Granger was here when we ran the first series of background checks on the tactical role players.

He singled out Inman and specifically asked if we found any anomalies in his m*llitary history.

Making sure his own ass was covered.

Two months of Inman's service has been heavily redacted.

Time frame coincides with a mission that Granger ran in Iran.

You want to do the honors?

With pleasure.

(line ringing)

Yeah?

I have a question.

You got ten seconds before I walk in there and ask you face-to-face.

Excuse me.

What was your question?

Why the hell didn't you tell us you were friends with Inman?

Because your team thinks I'm public enemy number one, and I wanted you to investigate him with an unbiased point of view.

That's no excuse.

If you weren't public enemy number one before, you're getting pretty close.

Have I ever pulled rank on you guys?

'Cause that's what I'm doing right now.

So, both of you, have a seat, keep watching.

Just might learn something.

(door opens and closes)

I found Inman's new facility.

(sighs)

That was fast.

Jenna Parish told you that it was being built in New Mexico, so I took the square footage of the k*ll house that you trained in today, and I calculated the size of the biggest and best facility that money could buy.

There's got to be a lot of properties that match that.

Three, to be exact.

Uh, two are for tract housing, but the third is constructing both indoor and outdoor sh**ting ranges, and being paid for entirely with cash.

So far, Inman has sunk in $2.3 million.

There's no way his m*llitary contract work could cover that.

Who's bankrolling it?

That's where the trail ends.

We both know you didn't have anything to do with Parish's death.

Accidents are a fact of life in high-risk training.

You understand.

You know what it's like to get your hands dirty.

Cisneros knew an American unit was coming for him.

Who do you think told him?

I don't know.

Like I said, those men who d*ed were good friends of mine.

I'm going to level with you, Inman.

That team you trained today were my people.

I ordered them to keep that information from you.

Something about them felt off.

After the Cisneros op went bad, JSOC wasn't going to give you a new contract, but I vouched for you.

Told them you were the best team out there.

Wasn't a lie.

I needed you to get my people sharp.

They're deploying soon.

That's what I was trying to do out there today.

Yeah, well, you blew it, Inman.

Granger, come on...

Shut up!

I vouched for you, and now we got a dead TRP.

I have solid intel about where Cisneros is going to be in 72 hours, but thanks to this, I don't have a team prepared to go after him.

INMAN: I didn't even see what happened.

I was outside.

Granger doesn't know where Cisneros is going to be.

He's playing Inman the same way he played us.

Granger's betting that Inman will leak that intel to Cisneros.

Granger's a son of a bitch.

Yeah, but he's a tricky son of a bitch.

(electronic chiming)

What, Eric?

Granger may not know where Cisneros is, but we do.

TSA at John Wayne Airport just reported a businessman passing through immigration using a Brazilian passport.

The biometric scans match up with Cisneros.

He's too good to trip an alert.

When does a guy of that caliber get sloppy?

When he's in a hurry.

Cisneros is in Los Angeles?

Yeah.

Who's watching Inman?

I cut him loose.

Left enough overwatch residue on him to spot him from outer space.

Confirmed. We've got Inman, and he's on the move.

Told you you might learn something.

CALLEN: Let's get back to Cisneros.

He's in L. A., and he's moving quickly enough to let his tradecraft slip. Why?

Well, the TRPs were told that they were training us to take a sh*t at him.

Could be related to that.

Guys, Inman's headed back to the TRPs'

k*ll house facility.

KENSI: The TRPs have broken ground on a state-of-the-art compound in New Mexico.

We also know that they have paid for their services in cash.

And this is cash they shouldn't have unless it's coming through the black market from a guy like Cisneros.

If Parish wasn't on board with the intel leak, then Inman's plan was at risk.

Okay, we've seen these guys'

profiles-- they're tight.

If one of them is in on it, they probably all are.

We still have to prove that Inman k*lled Parish.

Has Nell found any evidence on the TRPs' camera network?

I haven't heard from her.

Well, get her on the phone right now.

KENSI: She should have checked in by now.

(line ringing)

DEEKS: Come on. Pick up.

Nell, pick up.

Her cell phone's off-line.

We left Nell in that restaurant.

What if Inman's guys found her?

Then Cisneros has a chance to acquire something bigger than intel-- a human asset.

Just like the first exercise.

Inman thinks we're a unit assigned to find Cisneros.

If he had a chance to snatch one of our team members...

You don't think...

He's got Nell.

SAM: Escalades... suits, AKs.

Fits the profile of the Molina Cartel.

If Inman's got Nell, he won't let her out of his sight.

He's definitely still in there.

Roger that.

If Ms. Jones is harmed because you let Inman go...

I'm not the one who decided to send her into the field.

That's on you.

Guys... all that matters now is getting her back safely.

SAM: The long g*ns stay here.

Those k*ll house walls are paper-thin.

5.56 rounds would turn 'em into Swiss cheese.

Can't afford to lose Nell to friendly fire.

Then we get surgical.

Blades and sigs.

Okay, you guys couldn't see it from up there, but she definitely had a twinkle in her eye when she said that.

CALLEN: We got the cartel guys plus the five TRPs.

Remember how they operate-- wait for us to make the obvious choices, then they knock us off-balance.

We're not gonna overpower 'em, we outsmart 'em.

DEEKS: They'll be expecting us.

Take 'em quietly.

♪

MAN: Inman, we got company.

MAN: Go, go, go.

(running footsteps)

(grunting)

(kicks g*n)

(grunting)

(man screams)

You good?

Yeah.

Ready?

Yep, go.

Nell's got to be upstairs.

(grunting)

Really, a machete?

MAN: Inman?

Inman, is that you?

Come here.

Luis Cisneros?

Turn around.

Where's Inman?

(both grunting)

(coughs)

(tightens flex-cuffs)

Where's Inman?!

He has the girl.

KENSI: Inman, don't move.

I don't have a sh*t.

I don't either.

INMAN: Do you?

I didn't think so.

Inman.

Your move.

No, it's not.

(grunts)

You okay?

Yeah.

That has got to be the first and last time a hostage has ever de-magged her captor during a standoff.

That was awesome.

How'd you do that?

I trusted my training.

Come here.

(sighs)

(chuckles)

You're never leaving the Ops Center again, ever.

You know that, right?

I'm sorry, what do you mean?

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic.

No, that was very dramatic, Mr. Beale.

It's just that...

We make a good team.

We make an awesome team.

But I don't know, what if I do?

Do what?

Leave Ops some day.

It's not happening any time soon.

I have a long way to go before I can keep up with guys like Callen and Sam, but it's...

You're gonna get your chance.

And when you do, I'll be the first one to tell you to take it.

(chuckles)

Drama queen.

Me?

Come on.

Some tea, Mr. Callen?

It's over.

I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific.

Granger and us.

He almost got Nell k*lled today.

As much as I'd like to blame him, it wasn't entirely his doing.

I still don't want him around my team.

Your team?

Our team.

You know, you look at Owen Granger, and you see a ruthless manipulator.

I look at him, and I see a man who's spent so many years alone he's forgotten how to ask for help.

(sighs)

It's hard to find good friends in our line of work.

It's hard to find them anywhere.

Good night, Hetty.

Good night, Mr. Callen.

(talking low, laughing)

I wasn't honest with all of you today.

And while the realities of my job prevent me from giving you my word it'll never happen again, I'm sorry it put your team at risk.

Fair enough.

It's not really our place to accept that apology, though, is it?

No, it's not.

Nell?

Your call.

It's all good.

Good.

She's got the Gorgon stare.

ERIC: I want to come down here more often.

Nothing like a good open-plan workspace.

Exactly.

Couldn't agree more.

Yeah, okay.

Bring the box?

Yeah.

(groans)

(grunts)

Let's go.

No, I'm okay, actually.

KENSI: Stop.

HETTY: All good, indeed.