[Joe] Previously on You...
[Beck] Everyone just calls me Beck.
And you're Joe?
Goldberg.
[Joe] A guy needs to protect himself.
And your name was a glorious place to start.
The next thing our little friend the Internet gave me was your address.
[cell phone vibrates]
-...we could get a drink sometime? -Sure.
[Benji] Hey. Let me up.
God, you make me insane.
[Joe] Beck, who is this?
Benjamin J. Ashby. Greenwich-born, boarding-school bred.
-After you. -All right.
Hey, man, I'm thinking maybe...
Do not tell me that you're doing this because of Beck.
I'm very scared of what you would do to her.
She show you her ladle? She's got this red kitchen ladle.
It's a whole call-you-daddy, spank-me thing.
Benji, I'd love your help.
Unfortunately, I know you're a pathological liar.
[gasps]
[Joe] I just knew Benji was the worst kind of poison.
So I did what I had to do to help you.
[siren wailing in distance]
[Joe] It's been three days since our first kiss.
I have to say, things are looking pretty good for us, post-Benji.
If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life,
-what would it be? -Beverly Hills Cop.
-Really? -Yeah, dead serious.
Okay, I'll bite. Enlighten me.
Well, it's funny, but the danger feels very real.
-[laughs] -It checks all the boxes.
-What's yours? What's your forever movie? -Mmm.
I have to go with Pretty in Pink.
[Joe] Invisible townie girl swept off her feet
by the one guy who really sees her?
It's a little on the nose, Beck.
I love that movie.
I'll be that guy. The one who sees you. You deserve that after Benji.
So...
your old girlfriend,
that girl at Peach's party was talking about,
Candace, is it?
[Joe] It's customary, the inventory of past heartbreak.
-Do I want to know? -[Joe] But Candace.
I'm not sure how to tell you about her yet.
It's too soon, Beck.
I mean, I'm an open book. But it's the old story.
Just thinking you're right for someone,
and you're not.
Hmm. I got about a dozen of those.
-Hmm. -Maybe sometime over a drink.
-Or ten. -[laughs]
-Yeah. -Ten?
Ten. Ten, give or take.
I want to come in. I do. But I'm gonna make us wait.
You're worth waiting for. Besides...
Bye.
Right now, I have something rather pressing to deal with.
[Beck] "Grab and go"? Really? "Townie pie"? What the...
You're dead to me, Benji. Dead.
[Joe] You're finally moving on.
And now that you've dealt with Benji, it's time for me to do the same.
How exactly does one get rid of a body?
I can't just google this kind of thing
without creating a pretty damning evidence trail.
So, I turn to those I trust most for tips. King, Carr, Franzen, Flynn.
Fun fact: spatchcocking a chicken and dismembering a human
involve the same six essential steps.
Not sure I'm down for that. Little intense.
But I think I finally have a plan for Benji.
Hey, Joe. I didn't know you were up there.
Do you mind if I play some Enrique Iglesias?
I'm trying to bone up on my Spanish.
-[Joe] Officially the darkest days... -Sounds great.
-...in the world's history. -I could pick something else.
I got a ton of playlists on here. I got rock music, club music, jazz music.
[Joe] I wonder if he's a virgin.
Stick with the Iglesias.
I'll be in the basement working on some books.
I don't want to be disturbed. All right?
[Ethan] No problem. Thanks, Joe.
[Joe] Here's what I know.
There can be no dead Benji for you to mourn.
He needs to disappear.
Already handled the optics on social media.
Portrait of a dude hard-partying his way off the grid.
As for the body,
cremation seems expedient.
This will require chemicals, a steady blaze,
and absolutely no dental records.
Yeah. It looks like I'm gonna need to slow the biological roll on Benji.
It's about temperature and it's about humidity.
And dropping the temp this low puts the books at risk.
Dry, brittle, lost forever.
My humidifiers won't let that happen.
Gertrude Stein is dead. She's not coming back to sign books.
Hopefully, this holds him until I can man up and do the deed.
[Blythe] Come in.
Hi, there. I'm Guinevere Beck.
I'm your new MFA transfer.
Professor Leahy and I agreed that it would be better...
Sorry. I'm looking for Professor Mott?
Beck, is it?
-Yes. Hi. -Blythe.
-I heard you were joining us. -Oh. Yeah.
We meet here for workshop on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Mott's no Leahy, though, so bring your A game.
I intend to. You know, I actually...
I read one of your essays in the Review last month,
and it was so illuminating. I mean, I tweeted it.
Social media. It's like the next great genocide.
Jersey, right?
-Sorry? -That's where you're from?
No, I'm from Nantucket.
Oh, interesting.
-Where are you from? -Such a tough question.
Um, I was born in Papua New Guinea,
but my dad worked for the State Department,
so we moved around a lot.
I actually separated from my parents at one point.
Did some modeling in Tokyo.
My hair's super unique there.
-[chuckles] -[cell phone vibrates]
[speaking Swedish]
[in English] I'm sorry. It's my grandparents.
I'll see you in class, okay?
-Okay. -[Blythe] Okay.
Hey. Yeah? [chuckles]
[Beck] And then she walked away, and I melted into the earth.
Sounds like a pretentious bitch, if you ask me.
[Beck] No. Blythe's amazing.
She wrote this piece about how she and her mother
got bulimia together while in Italy. And she was 12.
-Chic. -[Annika] What the... Is that a nose?
-[Lynn] It's a dick pic, Annika. -[Annika laughs]
-See? Look. It's just zoomed in. -No. No.
Why is it against shag carpet?
-[Lynn] I don't know. Perspective? -[Peach] I don't get it.
I mean, why do men think disembodied members equal foreplay?
-They're not aesthetically pleasing. -Ooh, I disagree.
I have over 200 saved on my phone, organized by category.
It's my Guggenheim.
[chuckling]
I got fat bats, boomerangs, banana boats,
late bloomers and Jewish guys.
[Joe] More power to 'em,
but your friends kind of treat sex like it means nothing.
Junk in zoom.
-[Joe] But you're different, aren't you? -[Peach] Why am I not surprised?
Honestly, I see her point. I hooked up with some guy last night.
Knee-deep in before I realize he's uncircumcised. [chuckles]
It kind of looked like, I don't know, a hoodie?
-[Annika] Whoa! -Bookstore clerk has a turtleneck?
Bookstore manager. But no, not Joe.
Some guy from Tinder. Just a little down and dirty, you know?
-[Annika] Wow. -[Beck] Joe is still a maybe.
[Joe] A "maybe"? I'm a "maybe"?
And you're still screwing other guys? Beck!
How did I miss this? How did I read this so completely wrong?
Look, if you want to bone Benji out of your system,
more power to you.
I just want to make sure that you're respecting yourself.
-[sighs] -[Peach] Look, I'm just saying...
are you being your most amazing self right now?
I mean, this is... This is my process.
It's like a Benji exorcism.
I'm just exploring my options in a city of eight million people.
-It's only reasonable, right? -Yeah.
I'm gonna get a drink.
I like your tattoo.
I don't have a tattoo.
[Joe] Love is patient and kind. And so am I, Beck.
For you, I can be patient. Maybe this is your process.
Nobody buys the first pair of jeans they try on, no matter how perfect.
But as much as I'm hoping this is just a stage,
a quick password search on your iCloud has revealed
a swipe-fest of millennial man-boys.
Guy with tiger. Junior William Morris agent.
Viking wannabe. You've been a busy girl, Beck.
It's more competition than I realized.
This thing between us, it's new, tenuous. And the cost was a corpse.
But I can't get rid of every guy in New York.
If I want to win your heart, I'm gonna have to show you.
-[Beck moaning] -[bed creaking]
[Beck yelps and giggles]
[Joe] I'm not a "maybe." I'm the one.
It's time.
Time to get rid of Benji, so I can focus my undivided attention on you, Beck.
On us.
So, I'm gonna need a few supplies.
Hey, Joe. You said you needed to talk?
I do, yeah. So, here's the thing.
I have a secret project I'm working on, but I got to open up the shop.
So, I thought you could run some errands for me.
I'll give you a little money for books? Just between us.
Yeah. No problem. Between us. What do you need?
Well, you might have to run to a few different places.
You can count on me, Joe.
Thanks, Pac.
[Yuri] "The swine and I
Eye to eye
My heart is his
And that was sunset"
I'm not sure it had the vigilance or depth that you're capable of.
I just wasn't fully invested.
[Mott] Interesting, Blythe.
How do we maintain the reader's attention?
We infuse the universal with painful specificity.
-Or they simply turn the page. -[Blythe] Exactly.
My worst fear, and I'm not commenting on Yuri's poem, per se,
is not to be bad, but unremarkable.
[Mott] Unremarkable. That is the fear.
I hope this was helpful, Yuri?
I think that does it for today.
Next up is Blythe. And Beck.
Send a piece of your choosing to myself and your fellow classmates,
and we'll review on Thursday.
Okay.
[Joe] Here's what I've gleaned from this little exercise in futility, Beck.
You're in no mood to write.
And you need a new bed.
So, hey, maybe your enthusiastic but ultimately empty encounter
with that Warby Parker-wearing mixologist could work to our advantage.
I've got time to kill while Paco's shopping.
[cell phone chimes]
[Beck] You read my mind.
[Joe] But I have to play this perfectly.
And in order to do that, I got to break out the big gun.
Mr. Mooney's Buick Skylark.
You bound down the stairs in those tight, not-too-tight jeans.
You're in flip-flops and your toenails sparkle,
and your hair is in a bun,
and at least you don't have any hickies, so there's that.
Oh, my God! I can't believe this is your car!
Uh, you're a life-saver.
You have no idea how much I need a new bed.
[Joe] New challenge.
How do I segue this from browsing glassware
to, "Holy shit! Joe's the one"?
Weird.
I have one just like this.
[Joe] Yeah, I know all about it. Benji told me.
It was my dad's.
[Joe] The infamous red ladle. How you like to be spanked with it.
Is that what you really want, Beck?
Is that the guy you're looking for?
Just pick one.
It's all cut from the same hunk of over-priced wood.
I can't decide.
[Joe] People trying to buy some sort of meaning in their lives
with $60 candles and sustainable lamps.
I mean, they all look pretty good to me.
No. I just mean, should I get the queen- or the king-sized bed?
Your bedroom isn't big enough to fit a king.
You're right. It's too...
How do you know that?
It's New York. No one's bedroom is big enough to fit a king.
[chuckles nervously]
[groans]
[sighs]
What's wrong?
This girl, Blythe, in workshop. She just submitted her short story.
And?
And I haven't even started mine, and it's due tomorrow.
God.
Hers...
It's brilliant.
It's about a crow that flies into a woman's house,
runs into the walls and leaves blood everywhere.
That sounds terrible.
Read it.
[breathes deeply]
Well?
-You might be right. -[grunts]
I know.
Can I ask you something?
Anything.
Promise to tell the truth?
Scout's honor.
Do you think I'm unremarkable?
Unremarkable people don't worry about being unremarkable.
[Joe] This is it, Beck. This is the moment.
I'm gonna show you just how remarkable you are.
You want it down and dirty? You got it.
-[gasps] Stop! Stop! Stop! -[Joe] What? I thought that you...
That I wanted to get arrested
for you going all bush diver on me in public?
It's not exactly on my to-do list today.
[Joe] I guess I read that wrong.
You haven't made eye contact for the past ten minutes.
Things couldn't get any worse right now.
[cell phone ringing]
Hello?
[Ethan over phone] Hey, Joe. It's Ethan.
-Ethan from the bookstore. -Yeah.
Yeah, I know who you are, Ethan.
[Ethan] Right. Thing is, the power's out.
Um, the electrician says he thinks the system is overloaded,
but he can't get to the fuse box because...
[Joe] It's in the basement with a dead body.
[Ethan] ...which is locked.
He thinks he can pop the lock, but I just wanted to, you know...
No! No, no, no.
Just tell the electrician to go home. I'll call him later.
You lock up and go home.
I'll deal with it when I get back, all right?
Okay.
Everything okay?
Yeah, it's fine. It's just a little problem at the shop.
I should get you home.
I was afraid this might happen. Six humidifiers
and an AC unit from the late '70s cranked to its lowest setting.
Even in death, Benji is a colossal pain in my ass.
Okay. With the AC out,
seems deterioration speed's really picked up.
[groans]
[exhales]
Oh!
Is that ooze?
Things have grown biologically dire in the Benji department.
Also, the rare book department.
But I can't protect them until I get rid of him.
Benji has to go.
[grunts]
[Beck] Hey, what're you up to?
Do you happen to read Chinese?
Or own a mallet?
[Joe] The books are safe. Basement is 100% corpse-free.
Can't burn the body in the daylight, anyway.
So, the least Benji can do is wait in the car for a little while.
-[Joe] All right. Ready for that. -[Beck] Ready? Okay.
[Joe] Okay, let go for a second.
-[Beck] Okay. -[Joe] Yeah.
-[Beck] It's in the peg! -[Joe] Okay.
[Beck laughs]
-Hand me the mallet. -[Beck] Yeah.
[Joe] Should be good.
-Can you do that? That's perfect. -[Beck] Ready?
-[Beck laughs] -There it is! Go!
[Beck] Say when.
-When. When. When. -[Beck laughs]
[exhales] Cheers to us.
You make a good apprentice.
I was gonna say the same thing about you.
I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to get so upset.
It's okay.
No. It's not. It's just...
I don't want you to think of me like that.
I like you, Joe.
Like, actually like.
And I was a little in my head, to be honest.
Blythe's short story kind of threw me for a loop.
It's not a competition.
I know, but I wonder...
Am I ever gonna write anything that amazing?
-You're talented. -You don't know that.
I know you need to get out of your head.
Forget Blythe. This Blythe person.
Forget everybody. Just write what you want.
God. Everyone says that like it's so easy.
I know. I know. Okay, so...
Pop quiz.
Don't think.
-Just answer. -Okay.
What hits you like a gut punch, when you... The first thought.
My dad.
Before he...
Yeah, right.
Of course.
He was an addict.
It was hard.
And scary.
I mean, there were good days, too.
Like, I always knew it was gonna be one of those
when I woke up to the smell of pancakes cooking.
He used this red ladle to scoop up the batter.
[Joe] This is the red ladle story?
And I would be laughing, singing along to some bad Top 40 song.
When everything would be right.
But then he'd go out and...
the ladle would go back in the drawer...
and I'd wait for the next good day.
Until there weren't any more.
[chuckles]
Wow.
I did not expect to say all that.
I think you're right.
You definitely don't have anything meaningful to write about.
-[Beck sighs] -[Joe] Ooh!
Benji was wrong about all of it.
His whole red ladle story. You don't want to be spanked.
You want to feel safe. Loved.
You want someone to make pancakes for you.
Here.
[knocking at door]
Um... Hold that thought. I'll be right back.
[knocking continues]
Coming!
-[Beck] Is everything okay? -[Peach] No.
-[Peach] Thank God you're here. -[Joe] Peach.
-[Peach] I texted you. -[Joe] I should've known.
I'm having a really bad flare-up.
I think I need you to take me to the emergency room.
Oh, Joseph. Didn't realize you were here.
I told you he was coming.
Peach is really sick.
I mean, this is probably more than you need to know,
but I have a rare chronic bladder disease called interstitial cystitis.
[gasps] Gosh!
I mean, you know, some people think I'm being uppity,
but I can't have any fast food.
And if I drink, it has to be a high pH,
you know, like Ketel One, or Goose and pear juice.
Weren't you doing Jäger shots at your party?
[groans loudly]
-[Beck] Let's get you to the hospital. -Yeah.
Joe has a car. He can take us. Right, Joe? You can take us?
Of course.
[Joe] I mean, I've got a dead body in the trunk, but, hey, no biggie, right?
This is taking forever.
He took the worst street to get across town.
Be nice.
I'm in real pain.
[mouthing] I'm sorry.
-[groans] Joseph. -Yeah.
I'm feeling nauseated. Can you crack a window?
There's like a sort of putrid aroma that keeps wafting in the back seat.
What can I say? Smells of the city.
Oh, God. I can't deal. I can't deal!
We'll walk. Need to get out of this.
I'm so sorry.
[Joe] It's almost the witching hour.
Grab the supplies, drive the narcissistic cadaver,
formerly known as Benji, to his final destination,
light a match, and I'm yours forever, Beck.
Well, this is a development.
That's him.
"Potassium nitrate. Six rolls of duct tape.
Fire starter. Twine. Burlap. Wood stakes."
You want to explain what all this is for?
[Joe] Explain the shopping list straight out of Body Disposal for Dummies?
I know.
I know how this all must look.
I know involving Paco was the wrong thing to do,
but things have been a little crazy for me lately.
I guess I was hoping I could make the world a better place.
You know what? It would just be easier if I show you.
Yeah, I'll show you. Come on.
Technically, we're not allowed to plant anything in here.
I was just trying to keep it a bit under wraps.
And the chemicals?
They dissolve roots.
Fire starter?
I like to grill.
Here.
There you go.
-It's good. -Thank you.
So, he built a garden. So what?
I told this guy, stay away from my girlfriend's kid.
And what does he do? He gives him money? For errands?
Hey, I told you, I'm a parole officer, okay?
We see guys like this all the time. He is a sicko. I feel it in my gut.
Will you go back inside?
Just tell your mom I'm gonna be right there, okay, buddy?
All right. All right. All right.
The kid's got ADHD. Tough to manage at times.
But that's what makes him vulnerable to freaks like this.
Look, I apologize if I crossed a line.
I just noticed how hungry Paco is all the time, you know?
I gave him a few dollars to go to the store,
honestly, so he could buy himself a sandwich.
I lend him books from time to time, too. That's all.
He just seems a little neglected.
Are you kidding me right now?
I'm not saying they're unfit. A lot of people drink.
-That's it! I-- -All right! All right!
Sorry to have taken up your time.
Good luck with the garden.
Thank you, Officer.
[Joe] People. They're easy to fool.
Like these cops.
I'm the nice, straight-edge guy, so there's nothin' to worry about.
People believe whatever supports their worldview.
Unfortunately, that seems to include you, Beck.
You believed you deserved Benji and his neglect.
And you believe you deserve Peach and her drama. And on and on.
I want to call and tell you, but I can't,
because there's a traditional waiting period
between every goddamn communication when you're trying to date someone.
I hate this generation.
[sighs] Thank you.
[exhales]
Thanks for staying with me.
Honestly, I don't know what I would've done without you.
You can always count on me.
Thanks.
So, what do you think about Joe?
Uh... Yeah, you know, I like him.
I think I might really like him.
I mean, I wasn't sure if I was ready to get involved, but maybe...
Okay, you can't be serious.
I mean, the guy works at a bookstore.
[scoffs] Beck. Look, I know you.
You don't want to spend your fifth anniversary
going dutch at Katz's Deli.
You need someone to take care of you.
So you can write, be free, happy.
Not someone like Joe and his financial limitations.
That is not fair.
Nobody pays me to be fair.
What do you say we get a bite to eat? 'Cause I'm starving.
I think I better skip it.
I should really get home. Glad you're feeling better.
[Joe] Oh, no, no, no. Not now.
Okay, Beck, all right.
Hey. How's the patient?
Better. Thanks for the ride.
The doctor said it was good that we came when we did.
Oh, yeah?
Why don't you meet me back at my place? Maybe we can pick up where we left off?
What about Peach?
-What about her? -Where is she now?
Indochine. It's her comfort food.
[Joe] Perfect. Peach is gulping steamed Chilean sea bass down her scrawny gullet,
and I'm about to get caught.
So, what do you think?
I think you complain about not being able to write,
but then you, you know, drop everything for some medical emergency,
which, by the way, many believe to be psychosomatic in origin.
I meant about you coming over.
I wish I could. I really wish I could,
but I'm just really busy right now, so, in fact, I should go.
Look, I know Peach showing up was bad timing,
but I wasn't exactly writing when she showed up.
-No, I know. -Pro tip of the day.
Screen your calls when you're trying to burn a body,
because it turns out, things slip out that you didn't actually want to say.
...but, you know, you're sending some mixed messages, right?
What is that supposed to mean?
I'm trying to do what you want, but I can't tell what that is.
Like, build you a bed, be with you on the bed,
drop you down the block
because your friend is asking, and not very...
Seriously, Joe, shut up.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I have to go.
But...
Hey! How's it going?
Good. That's one hell of a bonfire.
Yeah. What can I say? I went a little crazy.
You know, you're welcome to join if you like.
[Joe] Please say no. Please say no.
That would be great.
But we need to get back to the car before it gets any darker. Good luck.
-Yeah, have a good one. -You, too.
[Joe] I believe in love at first sight. I had it with you, Beck.
And maybe, just maybe, I destroyed it just as fast
in the space of a single phone call.
Was all this for nothing?
[man] How may we describe the joy of the king and queen
when they saw their daughter...
[Joe] I've been calling you, Beck.
But straight to voicemail.
Worst three words in the English language.
I wonder what our kids would've been like.
They'd have grown up reading, not glued to iPads.
And we definitely wouldn't have named them
things like Gulliver, or Blaze or Mysti with an "I."
We would've crushed this. Together.
It wasn't supposed to end like this.
Call me back, Beck.
The end.
[Tomas] I don't mean this to blow smoke up your ass or anything,
but your writing makes me think that Raymond Carver has been reincarnated.
[Blythe] That is so kind of you to say, Tomas.
I was born in '88, the year he died,
so weirdly enough, you're not the first person to have said that.
Again, great work, Blythe. Excited to see what's next.
Beck, we weren't expecting you. You didn't send along pages.
I know. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I'm late, it's just...
I wrote them, but they sounded super emo.
So I ripped them up and started over, and I lost track of time.
But this feels like me and what I want to say.
It's only one page, but...
That isn't really enough for us to critique.
Are we supposed to read it now? In front of you? That's kind of awkward.
[Blythe] If that's the case, I should warn you,
I have this facial autism thing where I can't hide what I'm thinking.
Let's just reschedule your review for another time.
[Joe] Beck?
Hey.
Uh, okay, so I hate to admit it, but you were right.
A little bit.
I will do anything for my friends. And do I hide behind them? Yeah.
And do I use them as an excuse not to write?
Honestly, I'd use anything as an excuse not to write because...
Okay, I'm afraid I might fail.
I'm one terrible page away from confirming I'm the worst writer in history.
All of that to say, if I'm sending mixed messages,
it's because I don't know who I am.
So how am I supposed to know what I want?
And I know I sound super gross, like, so, I don't know, millennial.
Don't say anything.
[Joe] In this moment, you are everything.
Here's the thing. If you know who you are, it's not like you share it.
I mean, you're a nice guy with the "you're remarkable" stuff,
and feelings guy with the "write what moves you,"
but then, you try and go down on me in the middle of a furniture store.
If I didn't know better, I'd think you were hiding something.
For God's sakes, why are you holding a Pendleton blanket?
I've never even seen your place,
and you never talk about any of your friends.
I mean, who are you?
Okay, that was too much.
Um... It sounded better in my head.
I want to show you something.
You want to know me, Beck?
I'll show you exactly who I am.
This is where we keep the rarest books.
The collectibles. First editions.
It's paper, cloth, leather, paste. It's all vulnerable.
All sensitive to light, humidity, temperature.
That's why they need to be in here.
To protect them.
I can take you to my apartment. Any time you want.
I want you to meet my friends. I do. But this...
this right here, is the most important place in the world to me.
As weird as it sounds.
These books are more alive,
more worthy than most people I know.
You want to know who I am? This is it.
There you are.
That's it. I am officially out of the Tinder business.
-Bravo, honey. -I just...
I feel like this is a good step, you know?
Like, this is good for me.
Joe is good for me.
Whatever you need, Becks.
I'm just saying, and I mean this, honestly...
Maybe a simple life isn't so bad. Maybe it's what you need.
Maybe I should be looking for that.
Joe isn't simple. He's different.
Complicated.
That's funny. There's a book missing.
Really? What book is that?
Ozma of Oz. No, it was just here.
Joe was looking at it at my party.
I'm sure it'll turn up.
[Joe] You've deleted Tinder.
And now you've called and asked me to come over.
My faith in our epic love story is officially restored.
I'm sorry, Joe. I was so stupid.
I left your list on my bed, and Ron found it. I'm sorry.
You're not stupid. It's not your fault.
I tried to explain, but...
It's not your fault.
[sighs] Guys like Ron are bullies.
We just need to stay one step ahead of them.
Like the Musketeers. Always one step ahead of the Cardinal, right?
[Paco] Hmm.
"One for all."
"And all for one."
Paco!
Get inside.
[Joe] I can smell the bourbon from here.
I told you. Leave the kid alone.
Look, you may have the cops fooled with your bullshit tomato garden.
But I'm right.
There's something wrong with you.
I see it in your eyes.
[scoffs]
[door slams]
[Joe] File that away under "future problems."
[Beck] Knock, knock. You here yet?
[Joe] Because tonight...
Tonight, I show you I'm the one.
You can make me pancakes later.
[Joe chuckles]
[both moaning]
[Joe groaning]
Did you just...