Transcript

Fleming: Be right with you, Hotspur. I've still...got some fries to go with these thighs.

Garcia: Take your time, Fleming. Please, enjoy your supper. After all...it is going to be your last.

Fleming: You really think you've won? I like that. And I see you decided to join our revels after all. Care for a bite of my "last supper"...It's low in trans fat.

Garcia: What are you having? I'm sorry, how stupid of me. Who are you having?

Fleming: Why, it's your precious Paula, of course. Mmm...The skin is so soft and tender. Try some.

Johnson: Wait, Garcia! Don't shoot!

Paula: I love you Garcia.

Garcia: Paula! Oh God, what have I done?!?

Fleming: Oh no. You killed her again. How could you?

Garcia: Fuck you! You're toast!

Fleming: You see? Only the prettiest women look radiant in red. This woman belongs in the Lord of Demons' bed. No. She will not be returning to you.

Garcia: Paula! You hold on for me, baby! I'm getting you out!

Paula: Gaaarciiiaaa...

Fleming: This meal is over!!

Johnson: Look out G!