What kind of freaking friend are you anyway? You won't give me my wet bar or my Walther but you can wake me up and drag out trauma based on your whimsy?

[Kazak, who up until this point has remained in his place taking up half of the bed, lets out a whine, so Archer turns to argue with him.] How am I the insensitive one here? [Kazak barks in response, and Archer retorts.] Seriously, why do you want me to talk about this shit?