[Nucky has just cut the city's liquor barons out of a profitable deal]
Sorry, gentlemen. New year, new rules.
Well, that makes sense. A chink I know, runs a laundry, tells me that '23 is the year of the pig.
This is a business decision.
I come all the way down here, put up with car trouble...
We all got the same news.
Yeah but we ain't all in the same fuckin' boat! I'm gettin' squeezed on all sides...
[warns him in Italian]
No fuck you, Frank! Your fuckin' rathole bar and your warehouse in Canarsie? I don't see you doin' me any favors, amicu! [to Rothstein] And you, you smug kike midget, creeping around like a dentist with ether...
Why don't you watch your fuckin' mouth...
Why don't you go sit in the corner, short pants? [to Nucky] And then there's you. Fuckin' breadstick in a bowtie. You pasty-faced cocksucker...
[angry but controlled] You must be tired, Mr. Rossetti. That can make a man irritable. You need some rest.
I need 500 cases of rum.
You and your men, my guests at the Ritz.
You think I can't float my own hotel room?
I'm making a goodwill gesture. Accept it or not.
How about I make one to you?
You'll not do it here.
I'll shit you out like yesterday's sausage, you bog-trottin' prick.
You're making my decision very easy.
[Rosetti looks around the room, sees he has no support]
Nobody around here can take a joke.
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