and were off.
Right.
To what shall I compare thee, man?
Your lifes a morning dew,
a lightnings flash.
Quite. What bit you?
It s Roan. An ancient poet.
When will you start reading
Russian poetry?
Help me wash up.
As you pass me by...
unsmiling...
lashes lowered...
eyes in shadow...
so like vesperal Madonnas...
in the twilight of the church.
Artyom, it s icy.
Just the thing.
Pour.
Quick.
- Dont, III dry off.
- It s too cold.
Dont laugh...
but I also thought of a poem.
I said it first. Youre a poet.
It s short, and no rhymes.
Listen.
Love strikes at your heart
as soon as it s open.
It s not like Tyson...
but it hits harder.
And stricken on the floor,
for the first time ever.
Youre tired of fighting...
cant think how it ends, though.
Dont.
Best poem Ive ever heard.
KOSTYA, VIKA, ARTYOM
WERE HERE
We overtake him, or we lose.
Hell fight to the end.
Moneys for the operation.
He knows well find him in Moscow.
It means he left.
Too much risk to leave the country.
So hes in Russia.
Check all clinics.
Leave no stone unturned.
What s the matter, son?
- Dad, who were you talking to?
- Myself. Go back to sleep.
I dreamed of mom.
- Like you were talking to her.
- Son.
Was she really that beautiful?
Yes.
Then why did she...
why...
Son... it s a dream.
All a dream.
Moms with us.
We just cant see her.
Okay, go. Go back to sleep.
Message to be erased
after playback.
Vika, you cannot come back here.
Okay.
Call me on the mobile every
Wednesday and Saturday, 9 pm.
Nobody looking at us?
I dont think so.
Hide it. Just in case.
Take it out,
if you know youll shoot.
Sir, please come with me.
A moment.
That s it. Dont be afraid.
I have to go.
Artyom, I love you.
I love you too. Be careful.
Vika.
Kostya.
- Guys.
- Hi, Dad.
- We came to visit you.
- Not for too long.
Is there anybody here?
May I have some water?
Who is here?
I cant see.
Fucking quacks.
I still cant see shit.
What the eye doesnt see...
the heart cannot grieve.
Vika, are you coming? Time to call.
Why the hurry, Major?
Look at the sun, it cant be later
than a quarter past six.
Christ. A reader.
I am not talking. Get the doctor.
- I cant see, dont you get it?
- You could never see.
And you are not in a hospital.
- Bastards.
- You are not dumb.
Why do you think I am here?
You can still save yourself...
by giving us...
Vika and the money.
Caller ID withheld.
Will you take it?
- No answer.
- Keep ringing.
Artyom...
- Hello, Artyom!
- Hello, Vika.
It s not Artyom.
It s his doctor speaking.
Bitch.
- Did you hear?
- Yeah. Could it be the doctor?
Hell pluck out your air pipe...
if you dont tell.
Do what you like.
The voice was too soapy.
Let s go grab an ice-cream and think.
Some bagpipes.
Richard III.
BOXING STAR
MYSTERIOUSLY DISAPPEARS
Guys.
What?
Some water. Please.
Go get some.
Look, I stole 2 million from this guy.
It s no use to me now,
but I wont give it back to him.
Do you want to know
where it is?
Dont be dumb. Check it, what s there
to lose? Come closer.
Well?
Well and good.
Anybody else here?
Thanks. Totally parched.
But I am in so far in blood...
that sin will pluck on sin:
Tear-falling pity dwells
not in this eye.
Is thy name Tyrrel?
James Tyrrel, and your most
obedient subject.
- Art thou, indeed?
- Prove me, my gracious sovereign.
Darest thou resolve to kill
a friend of mine?
Please you. But I had rather kill
two enemies.
Why, there are thou hast it:
Two deep enemies.
Foes to my rest and my sweet
sleeps disturbers.
Are they that I would have
thee deal upon.
Stay, yet look back with me
unto the Tower...
Vika. How do you like those girls?
- Shall we wait till it s over?
- Now.
Another crush?
Go ahead.
Divide the crowd into sectors.
Use my babies well.
So foolish sorrow bids
your stones farewell.
Is that what you do?
Yep. That s my job.
Wish I could do that.
Sector 3 is clear.
May I see? Pretty cool.
Crazy.