We gotta get outta here. Now.
[shakes his head] Good passports do not come cheap, huh? I sell the RPGs, smuggle in Kalashnikovs, we have enough money. That's it. [to Hughie] Where will you go, Petit Hughie?
You could just stay here… with Frenchie's gangbanger friends. [sarcastically] The cots, they got 31 flavors of semen on them. You'll love 'em.
Oh, and you have a better idea? No? Maybe we can stay–all of us–in your mother's asshole!
Or… maybe we could not run.
You are like a record that is broken.
Well, we shouldn't just give up. Guys, we get some Compound V, we–we bring it to the New York Times, we burn Vought to the ground.
You got some V, Hughie? 'Cause I don't.
We could… get some. Someone could help us get it.
And who might that be?
You did not hear the television? We are famous now. Butcher even more so!
Fuck Butcher! We don't need him!
A-Team had Hannibal. Dirty Dozen, Lee Marvin. Beatles, Brian Epstein.
We don't need Butcher!
Okay, who's gonna be our captain? You?
I mean, guys, just–just hear me out.
Shut the fuck UP! [gets up; whispering to Hughie] This is over.
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