L.A. Noire

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
You know, I really hate this f***. This Black Dahlia guy. Have you seen the body? F***ing case just gnaws away at your guts. Hollywood... Every prom queen from every f***ing hick town in America turns up here. Where do they end up? Gutted on the f***ing sidewalk.

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
You're the new face of the department, Phelps - the modern cop who tries to understand why the perp does what he does. Me, I just drop the hammer down on the lowlifes. You crunch a roach under your heel, you don't worry about what it's feeling, you just grind it into the pavement.

Cole Phelps:
I'm tired of your shtick, Morgan. Spill it or we take you out in the alley and we knock it out of you!

Homeless Veteran:
I don't know the names of the women I've killed but I've killed many of them. The way they look at me, the way they flinch at my touch.

Stefan Bekowsky:
They were part of a four-piece band.

Cole Phelps:
Let me guess, Tyree and Lamont were the other two?

Roy Earle:
Hah. Now they're a no-piece.

Cole Phelps:
What were you doing to the body, Ferdinand?

John Ferdinand Jamison:
Are you sure you wont be upset?

Cole Phelps:
Try me, Ferdinand.

John Ferdinand Jamison:
I was kissing her...

[Galloway swiftly punches Ferdinand in the face]

John Ferdinand Jamison:
It's not against the law! There's no law against it.

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
Shut up and take your beating like a man.

Roy Earle:
Johnny here has the biggest schlong in all of Hollywood, and the smallest gun. Or maybe that's the other way around. I forget.

Johnny Stompanato:
You're a real funny guy, Roy.

Cole Phelps:
How 'bout at the next junction you shut your trap?

Herschel Biggs:
[opening lines]

Herschel Biggs:
[narrating] The city on the verge of greatness. A new type of city, based not on the man, but on the automobile. The car, symbol of freedom and vitality. Where every man can own his own home and have room to breathe and not be overlooked by his neighbors. A city where a man's home is his castle. A quarter acre of the dream made possible by the victory. A city of opportunists. A city of dreams where Hollywood will shape the thoughts and desires of the entire planet. A city of pioneers. A city of dreamers. A city of undercurrents, where not everything is as it seems. A twentieth century city that will become a model for the world. A city that has no boundaries, that will stretch as far as the eye can see.

Cole Phelps:
What have you got?

Patrolman:
Looks like an overdose.

Roy Earle:
Get away from him, Phelps. This is my case.

Cole Phelps:
Shut your f***ing mouth. Since when does a bag man work a case?

Roy Earle:
I knew this creep was in on the morphine heist. A victim of his own product.

[Phelps removes his gun and points it at Earle]

Patrolman:
Hey, Detective? Can we back it off a notch? This is getting out of hand!

Herschel Biggs:
There's a time to talk and a time to shut up. Now is the time to be quiet, son.

Cole Phelps:
Courtney Sheldon was a corpsman, Roy. He served his country! He went out with a medical kit and an Army .45 and into places that made the Valley of Death look like a picnic. He was either naive enough or dumb enough to get involved in the Suburban Development Fund along with the mayor, D.A., Monroe, and a certain crooked cop. He was involved in the morphine heist, but he has a puncture wound in his jugular, which makes it a murder case. He was a better man than you'll ever know. You say one more word about him and I will BLOW YOUR F***ING HEAD OFF!

Roy Earle:
You've finally lost it, partner.

Cole Phelps:
I have a pretty good idea why Sheldon is dead, and I know about Monroe. Your vast corrupt future is draining away as we speak.

Roy Earle:
I got better things to do than argue the rub with you.

Cole Phelps:
Stay with him until the coroner gets here. Make sure technical services bag the evidence. If you let this creep anywhere near it, I will come looking for you.

Patrolman:
Yes, sir.

Herschel Biggs:
You know, Phelps - you're not the worst a**hole going around.

Cole Phelps:
Thanks, Herschel.

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
If I killed every wife that served me papers I'd be a mass murderer.

Cole Phelps:
I'm surprised, you know. I didn't make the husband for it.

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
Always make the husband. Nine times out of ten it's the closest person to the vic who does the deed. God knows I've wanted to kill some wives in my time.

Cole Phelps:
"Lex parsimonae."

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
What?

Cole Phelps:
The law of parsimony. Occam's Razor. The simplest explanation is most likely the correct one.

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
You know, you could have said that without getting all liturgical.

Cole Phelps:
I'll try to dumb things down from now on.

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
It's appreciated. Try this one. "Rusty's razor."

Cole Phelps:
How's that?

L.A.P.D Homicide Desk Detective Rusty Galloway:
You blame the guy that's banging her.

Cole Phelps:
Ah, of course. The famous "lex ignoramus."

Leland Monroe:
Can I offer you a drink, boys? Cigar?

Herschel Biggs:
Sure, I'll have a Scotch.

Cole Phelps:
Biggs!