O'Reily: We gotta make him think that we're enemies. Keep him off guard until we kill him.
Adebisi: We kill him, the mob kills us.
O'Reily: They won't know. Not if we put this in his food.
Adebisi: Glass?
O'Reily: We make it fine, he won't be able to taste it. Over time, the glass will cut his insides up.
Adebisi: He'll die slowly.
O'Reily: But painfully.
Adebisi: You're one sick mother fucker, O'Reily.
O'Reily: Coming from you, that's a compliment.

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