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!
Fleming: This meal is over!!
Johnson: Look out G!