That man is a lunatic. High water he never made much sense, but now? He just utters pure gibberish.
Did he look pale to you?
What?
Did he seem pale?
How the fuck do I know if he was pale?
He looked pale to me.
What if he was? Let's say he was. Will you shut up about it? What is my part, and your part? [mocking] "What part of my part is your part? Is my foot your knee? What about your ear?" What the fuck is that?
Yeah, I don't know.
What don't you know? If he was pale or not?
What you're supposed to do.
I'm not supposed to do anything! Let's agree to that. Not one fucking thing that I don't decide I'm gonna. All right, Sol?
All right. [Bullock begins to walk away] Suspenders.
God damn it! If I kill the droop-eyed son of a bitch and my part's getting hanged for it, good luck with the fucking store.
All right.
I will write to Martha and see it posted. You look out after that widow.
All right, Seth.
Can I impose on you to pack a bag for me to cut down on the cocksucker's head start?
Be ready for you when you ride out.
Thanks, Sol.
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