XNik: Mon ami, you look like shit.
Murdoch: Tu es prete? (Are you ready?
Nik: For the new year? Hell no. But I reckon most of the square'll still be standin' in the mornin'. Have a talk with Denny on the difference between 'firework' an' 'military-issue grenade', will you, 'cause he weren't listenin' to me. Also, I been meanin' to ask you. That husband of Julia's.
Murdoch: What about him?
Nik: You got a plan? Cause he been at her, an' with him bein' a cop, we can't count on the threats bein' bullshit like usual.
Murdoch: Suppose I shoulda seen that comin'.
Nik: That'd be the constant pain cloudin' you thinkin'.
Murdoch: You got somethin' to say about that?
Nik: After you shredded Alain and Savoy? Not a thing. I know better'n to cross you when the devil's got you tongue.
Murdoch: Good.
Nik: 'sides, it ain't like I didn't reckon on you stubborn head killin' you someday. Alain'll be easier to handle. He won't keep up the beef, mind, every dam' fool with a sob story'll get around him, but it'll be high times while the money holds out. The street rats'll be happy they ain't nobody to tell em not to blow they take in the clubs or shoot out the windows when they come home high. An' me -- well, I'm thinkin' about that real sweet deal Joby offered me on the 727 RPG he lifted from the Q, an' how you said as you wasn't payin' a month's take for some big fuckin' gun we'd never use....
Murdoch: So instead, I pay for this.
Nik: Get on with the dyin', old man. Mama wants a rocket launcher.