Cacique:
Los ojos, quierro los ojos.
Richard Miller:
He wants my eyes?
Thomas Beckett:
Ah, he means antejos, your shooting glasses. Give them to him.
Richard Miller:
Why?
Thomas Beckett:
Because he likes them.
Thomas Beckett:
Those Goddamn Cheesedicks are early!
Thomas Beckett:
Don't take a piss. Bugs will swarm right up through your dick. Good night.
Richard Miller:
When the "rush" is over, it hurts. Doesn't it?
Thomas Beckett:
What you're feeling now ain't the worst pain. The worst thing is not feeling the hurt anymore.
Thomas Beckett:
What's that?
Richard Miller:
Got it out of the catalogue when I was with D.C. SWAT. We called it "Gucciflage".
Thomas Beckett:
[
laughs] "Gucciflage"?
Richard Miller:
[
smirks] Yeah.
Thomas Beckett:
You gonna wear that?
Richard Miller:
Yeah.
Thomas Beckett:
Let me see it.
[
gets handed the "Gucciflage", inspects it, stretches it out, and then flings it out the train window]
Richard Miller:
[
frustrated] Nice shot!
Thomas Beckett:
Ain't no room for Peter Pan on this hunt. You wear Corporal Papich's tree tux that I gave you.
[
looks out the window and fiddles with dog tags]
Richard Miller:
What the hell are those for?
Thomas Beckett:
Respect.
Richard Miller:
Is there a wrong way to fall down a fucking mountain?
Thomas Beckett:
One Shot. One Kill. No Exceptions.
Thomas Beckett:
Let me tell ya somethin' - sittin' in an office giving men orders to kill is the same thing as puttin' a bullet in someone's heart yourself. The same. Goddamn. THING.
[
Last lines]
Richard Miller:
[
to Beckett] There's always Montana.
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