The Royals (2015–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - Stand and Unfold Yourself - full transcript

The Royals 01x01
"Stand and Unfold Yourself"

You also have a fitting
for the garden party.

Followed by
the charity photo-shoot.

And Sir Elton John would like
to pop around and say hello.

Pop around and say hello?

You give someone a title, and they
treat the place like a Starbucks.

Quite. The Queen is
unfortunately indisposed.

- Now, at half-past twelve...
- Just give me the book, Lucius.

Are you ready, Your Majesty?

Of course, I'm ready.
I'm the Queen Of England.

When am I not ready?



Yes, of course,
get on with it.

Really, what's the point?

It's a race, you idiot!

Oooh!

I mean, it's a race, you
idiot, Your Royal Highness.

It's a race. True enough.

But some things in life
are meant to be savored.

A cold drink.

Time with your mates.

The woman in your bed.

That feels good.

Let me ask you something.

You know, could we go
somewhere without them?

Sorry.
What did you have in mind?



Paris?

I was thinking
more like your bed.

I like that even better.

But...

- Can we really go to Paris?
- Sure.

My sister's there right now.

Bitch, your coked-up ass
better curtsy.

- Do we like them?
- No.

Your Majesty?

My God, Truman.
What else did she do?

I can't imagine
it can get any worse.

It's not your daughter, sir.

It's your son.

I'm afraid it is worse.

Prince Liam?

Marcus.

You're supposed to guard me,
not scare the hell out of me.

You need to return to
the palace, Your Highness.

- Why? What's going on?
- You too, Ophelia.

Mom?

"Eleanorgy."

"Flash Dance."

"Royal Beaver."

My daughter, the Princess,
behaving like a common whore.

But go on, amuse me.
Explain this latest disgrace.

But, please, Eleanor,
make it original this time.

Robert's dead, Mom.

'I'll never forget
the look on his face.

The bewildered boy who had
just lost his brother.

And in the same moment...

had become the future
King Of England.'

'It is with heavy hearts
that we now have confirmation

that His Royal Highness
Prince Robert is gone.

Confirmation was made
just...'

'..first-born son of King
Simon and Queen Helena,

Prince Robert was a
fascinating combination...'

'And the Palace
remains secure,

yet tragically silent.'

The body is where? And
he won't be moved, right?

Military protocol's
in our favor.

It's imperative
things remain anonymous.

Fiona will handle press, I'll
personally escort the body.

Yeah. I'm on my way.

How'd it happen?

We're still gathering
information.

Is that the truth
from my father,

or the official response from
the King's Head of Security?

The truth from your father.

The same father who went to your
room to find your bed empty,

which can't be said
for the Prince's bed.

A fact I had to learn
from one of my men.

I know. Just don't take it out
on Marcus, okay? He didn't know.

When the Queen asks her Head of Security
why he can't control his own daughter,

what would you like me
to say?

I don't know. You could tell her that
your normally responsible daughter

got drunk on gin and tonic -
mostly gin -

and had irresponsible but
protected sex with her son.

And is very much
ashamed of herself.

I'm an employee, Ophelia.

We live here under an unspoken
code of distance and division.

A code
you must have forgotten,

otherwise you wouldn't have
been up all night drinking gin

and having illicit sex with
the future King of England.

You're absolutely right.
I'm sorry.

And I'm sorry about Robert.

I'm disappointed in you.
Go to class.

Oh. I'm glad
you're using protection.

Dad?

Could you never say that
again, please?

And you forgot your phone.

I owed him a call.

Last night I promised
I'd call him, but...

They're gonna come now.
All of them.

Maybe do Mom a favor
and wear some knickers.

Mom can piss off.

Maybe do Dad a favor then.

It's good to see you, Len.

Robert loved you most.

Hey.

This sucks, huh?

Oh, no!

Oh, my God. I'm never
flying commercial again.

- Where's our plane?
- It's redic.

It's recock.

Saw your fanny
on the front page, Len.

- Well done, you.
- Yeah, but how many people read the tabs, anyway?

Like, three million?

I mean, that's less than
what's seen your bits anyway.

- Yadda, yadda, yadda.
- Whatever.

- Oh, God...
- Sorry about Bobby.

Yeah. Like, no fair.

- So, is our father about?
- That neglectful tosser.

Marcus said
you wanted to see me?

Erm... Please, sit.

How do you like your tea?

I like it
when it's called coffee.

Iced dirty chai with soy.

I know those are words, but I
have no idea what they mean.

Last year when my mom died,

people didn't really know
what to say or do.

But it was always nice
when they tried.

I just wanted to say
that I'm sorry about Robert.

He seemed like
a wonderful person.

He was.

It's a bit mad around here
now, so...

I just wanted to say,
about last night, it was...

- It's fine.
- I didn't know who you were.

When Marcus recognized you
I realized it was you...

It's okay. I didn't know
who you were either.

So, you're funny.

I haven't been back
that long,

and even though we live in
the same palace,

it doesn't mean we live
in the same world.

Besides, my dad would prefer
to keep things quiet.

Was he upset
when he found out?

A little.
But I knew what I was doing.

Does the Queen know?

The Queen knows everything.

Helena. Don't go.

When a mother loses
her first-born son...

...I believe
she's allowed to grieve.

Not when she's the Queen.

And so the world gathers
to pay their respects

and say goodbye
to Prince Robert,

taken suddenly and far
too soon at the age of 23.

Charismatic. Compassionate.

Robert was Britain's
beloved son,

and he, like all the Royals, loved
the people with all his heart.

God,
how I loathe those people.

Draped in their football
jerseys and false sentiments.

I can practically smell them
from here.

I would've thought
you'd be happy, dear Uncle.

I mean, after all, you're one
step closer to the throne.

All you have to do is wait
for your brother to die

and then kill Liam.

Oh, and kill me too,
of course.

The drugs will do that.

And if not, the syphilis
will drive you mad

and they'll declare you
unfit to rule.

Either way, win win.

Speaking of syphilis...

you probably should've had that whore
of an ex-wife of yours checked

before those two were born.

What's that smell?
Is that your feet?

I thought it was your fanny.

It well could be
in this boiler.

Hey.

Are you trying
to get away from me?

I'm sorry, I didn't... I
was trying to be respectful.

They wrote a speech for me.
To give to the press.

"We lost more than a man
or a Prince.

We lost a beacon.

The kind on which a nation
relies to confer legitimacy

and create unity."

My brother dies and they
script my feelings.

Well, no matter what, I know
he'll be proud of you today.

Hey.

Let's have dinner some time.

Are you asking me out before
your brother's funeral?

It's my first non-scripted
moment of the day.

I like it. You should go
off script more often.

- Good luck.
- Thank you.

Really? Poor Gemma.

Poor Gemma broke up with me,
Mom.

Can you blame her?

Might I remind you the entire
world will be watching you today?

You'll give your quote
to Fiona,

you'll acknowledge the crowd,

and you'll escort me
to the car.

And try not to sleep
with anyone along the way.

Prince Liam,

with heavy hearts we offer our
condolences to you as a grieving nation.

One of the great things
about my brother was...

...he wasn't afraid
to be his own man.

I'll miss him.

My God. You wretched brats.

Your brother,
my first-born son,

and you can't find
the decorum, the civility,

to honor his memory.

- What is wrong with you?
- Was that scripted too?

We script you because we
can't trust either of you

to come up with a reasonably
coherent thought.

You know, God forbid
we appear incoherent

when our brother dies.

Or sad.

You might try it, Queen.

You are a little bitch.

- I'm inconsolable.
- Really?

Because our dad is out there genuinely
grieving the death of his son,

while you're in here worrying
about the family's image

and topping off on the Botox.

At least I'm not slumming
with the help.

And she's so plain.

I think Richard III
had it right.

Lock the kids in the Tower...
and be done with them.

Maybe Henry the Eighth
had it right.

He just killed his wives.

One of them
because she looked fat.

They always take
the good ones.

How did Robert die?

All they'll tell us was that
it was a military accident.

- That's all you need to know.
- Whatever it was...

good for him.

If you ask me,
Robert was the lucky one.

This way, sir.

I was thinking of taking
some time off from school.

Check up
on Robert's charities.

I would have thought your studies
would be a welcome distraction.

Speaking of
welcome distractions...

I asked a guest to join us.

Sit here.

Mom, Dad, this is Ophelia.

Ophelia Pryce,
artist in residence.

For His Majesty's
Silver Jubilee,

I presented him with
a very serious work of art.

I can recall, you were working in the
paste and yarn medium at the time.

I retired shortly thereafter.

What's your focus now?

Art History at Churchill.

Ophelia's doing
a joint honors degree.

Art History and Dance.

Which is grand news, indeed,

as the Prime Minister himself
recently expressed a concern

about the shortage of
frolicking art historians.

I'm sure you'll be twerking
your way to a great future.

Well, she is dining with
the future King of England,

so she's got that
going for her.

It's good that you're here,
Ophelia.

You can give us
the common point of view.

How is the public faring in
the wake of Robert's death?

I think we'll go.

Robert carried himself with a nobility
and grace that was easy to admire.

He was inspiring
and he was ours.

But I can only speak from
this commoner's perspective.

You say he was yours,
but you're American.

My mom was American,
but I was born here

and raised in the States
because it was...

Because it was safer.

Please, stay.

I appreciate your kind words
about Robert, Ophelia. I do.

Robert joined the military
because I did.

Like my father before me and his
father before him and so on.

- Robert was killed by tradition.
- He died a hero's death.

- A noble death.
- Which merely means he's dead. Why?

I seem to have lost
my appetite.

I think you'll want to stay to
hear this next part, my love.

I think you all will.

So put away your phones
and your drugs

and your lust for the server's
sponge and pay attention.

I'm considering asking
Parliament for a referendum.

To abolish the Monarchy.

Erm... What does
that mean exactly?

Um... er... That means
you'll have to get a job.

A vote, idiot of my loins,
to eradicate us.

- To erase us.
- Yeah, but who votes?

- The people.
- But they can't do that.

I mean, they're the people.

You know,
and we're, like, "us".

They can and they have.

- Ever heard of America?
- Oh!

But... I do not want
to be American.

I do not want to walk around
like Justin Bieber

with no shirt on
and my trousers hanging off.

- He's Canadian.
- Even worse.

They can't make us Canadian,
can they, Daddy?

Canadian and poor
just like Justin Bieber?

The British Monarchy always
has been and always will be.

"Always will be"
killed Robert.

The people need the Monarchy.

The people need bread
and jobs and a decent wage.

They don't need us.

With all due respect,
my King... how would you know?

- Truman.
- Your Majesty?

I need a favor.

I know you're tired.
And despondent over Robert.

But, honestly,

it was out of character for you to
speak so carelessly about the family.

Referendums and Parliament
and disbanding the Monarchy.

It's all so dramatic.

And, frankly, it's weak,
and less than who you are.

Forgive me, Your Majesty.
Er... I was...

My God,
it's good to be the King.

I understand you've had
dinner with the Prince.

He invited me. I said yes.

Next time say no.

Do you ever think
maybe I said yes for you?

That saying no might make it
awkward between you and the King?

- Did you?
- No.

I said yes
because I wanted to go.

But speaking of places
we've gone lately:

- Did you visit Mom's grave?
- I've been working.

The King's welfare
is never ending.

- Yeah.
- If you've got something to say, say it.

You know what? Fine. I will.

Two things, actually.

I appreciate that you worry
about me, and I get it.

Being close to the Royal
Family is what got Mom killed

and that's where you go
when I'm near them.

But it's not the same thing,
Dad.

It is the same thing. And
frankly, it's not fair to me.

Because you worry about me,
when I'm near them.

It's dangerous, Ophelia.
Even for a moment.

Do you know how many steps it
takes to get from the elevator

to the chair
you're sitting in?

Seven.

Do you know how many
to your bedroom?

23.

I lie awake at night and
wait to count those steps.

Because at least I know
you're home and you're safe.

You worry about a moment.

I worry about
all the other moments.

Hey.

You said
there were two things.

She always put us first,
you know?

You didn't visit her grave.

You haven't taken a single
day off since she died.

Huh. That's screwed up, Dad.

Mom deserves better.

Oh, look who it is.
Slag One and Slag Two.

Get in here,
you daft bitches.

I will take...
this and this...

I'll leave you with this,
okay?

God forbid we get any more
of the likes of you.

Oh, yeah, Penelope
doesn't actually get high.

She says it makes her queasy.

- Erm... She is also a virgin.
- Oh!

Just a vaggy virgin.
Not a blowy or a handy.

Now I'm queasy.

Well, you're getting high
tonight. Both of you.

Just not here.

Yes!

Maybe... maybe
you'll be better at shagging.

Although I doubt it.

I can't believe
Robert's gone.

He would've been
a stellar King, yeah?

If there's even going
to be another King.

Can you imagine it?

Not being a princess?

I'm just not qualified
to do anything else.

I think I can do
all kinds of things.

Like erm...
serve tea at the Ritz.

Yeah, you know, like,

"Would you like
another pot of tea, ladies?

- With some finger cakes?"
- Food.

- "Perhaps like a sweet?"
- I'm starving.

I can't feel my legs.

I need assistance. Len?

Help!

Come in.

His Royal Highness
asked for me?

Yes.

Regrettably, there have been
complaints about your efforts.

Enthusiasm of service,
that sort of thing.

I can assure you this is
the first I'm hearing of it.

I'll do better.
I can't be on benefits.

Of course.
You seem terribly nervous.

Am I that intimidating?

It's just...

- Well, I've heard things.
- Oh?

What sort of things?

That... some of the women

have had to do things
to keep their jobs.

With you.

You've heard that they
had to have sex with me.

Well, I can assure you
that's not the case.

Nor was it my intention
when I asked you here.

So, please, relax.

I'm... simply looking for

a token display
of dedication.

In a service capacity.

Besides, even the President
of the United States

said it wasn't sex.

And remember,
enthusiasm counts.

Is that the King of England
skulking about?

Fancy some?

This was reserved for
the Prime Minister but...

...that fat bastard
does not need any more pie.

I could always sell pastries.

You know, if you decide
to disband the Monarchy.

Which I am all for,
by the way.

Something tells me your
opinion is in the minority.

And when has that mattered?

You trust your instincts.
You follow your heart.

That's what makes you great.

A great King.

And a kind of okay father.

- How are you, Lenny?
- Um...

I'm sad.

But I'm baked
out of my mind...

So right now I'm well.

They worry about you.

Your mother. Liam.

Not you?

- Not so much.
- Oh, thanks a lot!

Go to bed.
Do better tomorrow.

I'm the King.
You have to do as I say.

Dad?

Do I disappoint you?

Those qualities
you say make me great...

I see them in you
every day.

Don't medicate
all that wonder.

Your brother loved you
with all his heart.

So do I.

Yeah.

Let me recap my week for you.

My daughter's vagina
was on the cover of...

no less than four tabloids.

My firstborn child
was killed.

My husband announced he wants to
abolish the only life I've ever known.

And his footman
nearly saw my snatch.

I miss him.

With every breath.

And what tears at me is the knowledge that
he could have been anything in the world.

I'll not lose another son
or daughter to this.

They're my children, too.

They're no worse than
any other kids their age.

Your daughter
was "rolling balls"

in the state dining room.

Now she's stoned and eating
the Prime Minister's pie.

I'm not sure that ending this
will heal any of us...

...but staying the same
will destroy us.

The English Crown
has been protected

and defended
for thousands of years.

From clans with sticks
through World Wars,

legions of lives lost...

But not this one.

Not our son.

You are the King of England,
goddammit.

Act like it.

That's exactly
what I intend to do.

Okay, so we'll be off now.

I guess our father's not...

Shut up!

If this were Asia we could
eat you with mushy peas.

Water...

For dear God do not slam
the bloody door!

- Stop shouting!
- I'll shout if I want to!

Your breath,
it smells like a fart.

Hey. You okay?

You're probably wondering
why I wanted to see you.

Something to do with Liam?

His Royal Highness,
Prince Liam.

Right. Sorry.

My son likes you.

But... I would be very happy

if you'd discourage
the relationship.

It's not really
a relationship.

No, of course, it's not.

Is your father
still a workaholic?

He loves his job.

Some people feel as though he's getting
a little old for his line of work,

but, of course, I would never
allow him to be replaced,

considering the favor
you'd be doing for me.

- May I speak freely?
- Of course.

Okay. Well, the thing is,

I wasn't even planning
on seeing your son again.

At least until you
insisted on girl talk

and started threatening
my father.

Maybe don't speak
quite so freely.

You're the Queen Of England.
I get it.

But your son is your problem,
not mine.

Be careful, little girl.

As you say,
I am the Queen of England,

and this is my house.

Perhaps if you still had a mother,
you'd have better manners.

I'm not afraid of you.

Afraid of me?

Of course you're not.

Why would you be?

Now... curtsy to your Queen
and walk away.

I would, but my mother
never taught me how.

You know what really sucks,
Marcus?

Other than my brother dying?

You never drink with me.

- I'm working, sir.
- And stop calling me sir.

You've been my security
detail for...?

- Six years.
- Six years.

Have a drink, you pussy.

"Uneasy lies the head
that wears a crown, sir."

Shakespeare. Henry IV.

- I know it's Shakespeare, you Irish prick.
- Careful.

Your name is Irish.

So look at it this way.
Maybe you're illegitimate.

And in that case,
you can't be King anyway.

Did you just say...

That your mother, the Queen,
got owned by an Irishman?

Yes, that's what I implied, you
potentially Irish bastard.

Talk to me about Ophelia,
Marcus.

- Ophelia, sir?
- Ophelia.

You recognized her
in my dorm room.

Right. Well...
Ophelia is Ted's daughter.

And Ted's my boss.

So... confidentially...

Ophelia is my
boss's daughter, sir.

Marcus, don't they give you
diplomacy lessons

before you become
the King's security?

- They do indeed, sir.
- Well, you suck at it.

You think Eleanor's
security detail is like this?

Eleanor's security detail
was fired, sir.

Enjoying that?

Oh, perhaps I could call the Keeper
of The Cellar, Your Majesty.

It's "Deputy Yeoman
of the Royal Cellars",

and I'm "Your Highness".

If you're going to work here,
you better learn the language.

Apologies, Your Highness.

- Are you nervous?
- Very much so, yes.

Why? Because I'm the Princess
or because I'm hot?

Well, no, because
you're the Princess.

Because you're hot.
Er... Both.

Inappropriate.

Apologies, Your Highness.

I'm so messing with you.

Though I do have
serious concerns

about your ability
to guard my body, Jasper.

The good news for you is
that I can look after myself.

Now, here,
hold out your arms.

Okay. You look concerned.

There are 25,000 bottles
of wine down here, Jasper.

I'm the Princess.
My house. My wine!

- Okay?
- Oh, no. No, of course. Yes.

But, look, if the
Deputy Yeoman sees you,

you're an alcoholic burglar.

Got it? Ooh.

This is a 1942 something
or other.

After I drink this, I'll need you to
find a good spot to hide the evidence.

- Sorry. You just said...
- Okay. You can go.

But tomorrow night we're going
out, so could you lighten up?

Er... Yes,
Your Majest... Highness.

- Okay.
- Right.

Phe! Stay and drink with me.

You look like
you could use one.

Yeah,
I could definitely use one.

1942, it is.

Some for you and...
more for me.

To Robert.

And to the fading days
of a crumbling empire.

So er... How are things
with the new boyfriend?

It wasn't like that.

I tried to explain that
to your mother.

And did she threaten you and
tell you to never see him again?

Pretty much.

But it was just a hook-up.

I wasn't looking
for a boyfriend.

So much for dating a guy
for his money and power.

Art, planes, boats, land.

A couple of castles,
the Crown Jewels,

and diplomatic immunity.

But, you know,
the kid's terrible-looking

so I can see why
none of that would matter.

I'm sorry about Robert.

Yeah.

I'm sorry about your mom.

You knew my mother?

From a distance.

She was elegant, your mom.

And your poor father,
he was so tortured.

I guess so.

I know so.

You know, when I quit
university last year,

...I used to kick about,
and try to go unrecognized.

And mostly I'd end up
in this park

stealing things
from homeless people.

Anyway,
I would see your dad there.

And he would sit
on this bench...

It was always
the same bench...

...and he would just weep.

You know,
like he was gutted inside.

Are you sure
that was my father?

He had this book.

"All Creatures
Great And Small"?

It's how he met my mom.

She was reading that book
in the park

and they had a chat about it.

So, anyway,
this went on for weeks.

And... eventually
my mother summoned him

and told him
enough was enough.

Do you know what he did?
Your dad?

He looked her...
right in the eyes...

...his boss,
the Queen of England...

...and he said,
"Sack me or deal with it.

My wife deserves
a lifetime of tears,

and not even the Queen will
decide when enough is enough."

Your dad's a bad-ass.
Everyone knows it.

Everyone except me.

I gotta go.

Hey. Thank you.

You're a bad-ass too.

No.

I'm just a bitch
with money and power.

But I do make it look good.

You were out late.

Hey. What's all this about?

I just wanna say
that I love you.

Because I do.

Good night, Dad.

- What?
- Are you gonna tell me

why the Queen was
standing in my living room

or am I meant to pretend
it never happened?

She just wanted to hang out. We're
kind of besties, me and the Queen.

She wanted to tell me
not to see Liam.

She also threatened you,
took a cheap shot at Mom,

and was pretty much
a complete bitch.

And before you say anything,
I wanna say that I'm sorry.

Again.

A girl has a few gin and tonics
and all hell breaks loose.

Do you want to see Liam?

Dad, there's no seeing. Okay?

We hang out. And no,
I wasn't planning on it.

Good. Because I agree with the Queen.
I think it's for the best.

But if you change your mind,

don't, for a second,
worry about me, or my job,

or what the Queen wants,
or any of it. Okay?

Really?

She might rule a nation, but that icy
bitch has no hold on my daughter's heart.

Besides, they've taken
enough from us already.

Thanks, Dad.

Well, you might not
want to hang out with him

but he certainly seems to
want to hang out with you.

Next King of England
on his way up.

- Good morning, sir.
- Good morning, Ted.

- Hi.
- Oh, hey.

- What's up?
- Sorry to come unannounced.

- That's what she said.
- Wow.

So, Eleanor said you and
my mom are hanging out now.

Yeah. We go to the mall
together, trade clothes,

- threaten each other.
- I should have warned you.

It's kind of what we do. I meet
someone, she threatens them.

It passes for love
in our family.

It's fine. I mean,
it's nice of you to stop by,

but totally unnecessary.

Good, because that's not
why I stopped by.

I was wondering if you wanted
to grab a coffee some time.

What's that erm...
that sludge that you drink?

Iced soy dirty... girl?

Iced dirty chai with soy.

It's delicious.
You should try it.

I plan to.
With you if you say yes.

- I don't know.
- It's just coffee, Ophelia.

If that's your story.

Fine. Coffee.

You and me. Me and
the future King of England,

having all the coffee.

Good. Um... yeah.

A little awkward,
but I'm still in.

- I'll text you.
- Okay.

I've gotta go.

Hey. Thanks for stopping by.

I wanted to.

Had nothing to do
with the Queen.

This is gonna suck.

Hey, Robby.

I miss you...

...and I'm gonna miss you.

I'll be fine. You know me.

Look out for Liam, though.

I think he's gonna need it.

Where to, Your Highness?

Have you ever been to Paris,
Jasper?

Oh,
it's a beautiful city.

Dad, are you considering abolishing
the Monarchy because of me?

Because
you don't believe in me?

No.

I'm considering it
because I do believe in you.

And because I want
something more for you.

What could be more than King?

Love.

A family raised
beyond the tabloids

and the walls of a castle.

A life lived
and not destined.

I like Ophelia very much.

Me too.

Her mother was killed
because of me.

Because men always choose
the wrong things.

They stalk power and wealth,

and frivolous things they
think will make them whole.

And it never does.

It never does.

But her father
chose duty and honor

and service to the King.

Those aren't
frivolous things.

No.

If you asked him, could he
do it all over again?

What road do you think
he'd travel?

Ted chose duty over love.

Robert chose honor
over his own path.

Choose love.

Choose your own path.

Those are the roads
to travel, my son.

Come on.

Hey. Go home.

You are welcome.

Get out.

I apologize in advance, Jasper,
for getting you sacked.

But... let's be honest,
I mean,

you were
a dead man walking anyway.

Probably so.

What do er... you remember
from last night, anyway?

Erm... Nothing, Jasper.

You were perfectly
forgettable.

It's just that I remember everything.

Yeah, well, like I said...
You're very welcome.

I remember being at the club.

And I remember the drugs
that I put in your drink.

And I remember every...
sordid, depraved,

self-loathing thing
that you did after that.

You know, when I forget...

I can always
just watch the video.

So I think
I'll keep this job.

- Oh!
- I like the benefits.

Hereditary power.

Entrenched privilege.

Can you really
give all of this up?

I can... and I will.

And do what?
What would you do?

Who would you be?

No one's ever asked me
that before.

I would like
to have been a fisherman.

And, you, brother.

If you could have
chosen your own destiny?

If you could have been
anything at all?

What would you have been?

King.

That was close, brother.

Long live the King.

- You ready to get some tea?
- Coffee.

I'll give it a shot.

Okay, here's the thing.

It might get a little
crazy out there.

I'll be fine.
It's just coffee.

If that's your story.

But just in case,
I'm right here.