Face the Music

James 'Brad' Bradley:
Strangest feeling in the back of my neck that somebody might throw a knife at me any minute.

Barbara Quigley:
Turn your back to the wall and there won't be room for anybody to throw anything.

James 'Brad' Bradley:
I feel like I've had my back to the wall ever since I set foot in this country.

Maxine Halbard:
How long do you like your spaghetti cooked?

James 'Brad' Bradley:
Oh... about... about ten inches. Have you lived here all your life?

Maxine Halbard:
Not yet.

Maxine Halbard:
The night's a kitten. Let's give her some milk.

James 'Brad' Bradley:
What's this?

Maxine Halbard:
Sherry - nice and dry and Spanish.

James 'Brad' Bradley:
I like mine wet.

Maxine Halbard:
The only other thing you can have is water.

James 'Brad' Bradley:
Oh, no, no, no. Never touch it - unhygenic.

Maxine Halbard:
Drink up and don't talk.

James 'Brad' Bradley:
I gotta go.

Maxine Halbard:
Why?

James 'Brad' Bradley:
Ask the clock.

James 'Brad' Bradley:
[narrating as he enters a dingy club] This didn't look like a safe place to take your mother. In fact, it looked like a place you leave horizontally or not at all.

James 'Brad' Bradley:
[apologizing after being bumped into the musicians] Can I, uh, can I get you a drink to make it up?

Barbara Quigley:
I wouldn't use force to stop you. [as Brad is walking away] Ask the man for the bottle! [he does a double take]

James 'Brad' Bradley:
[sarcastically, to the bartender] If I asked her if she wanted a smoke, do you think she'd order a flamethrower?

Bartender:
Ask her and see.