Shank

Olivier:
So, tell me, how does a nice boy like you get to hang around with such a bunch of thugs?

Olivier:
Well, I guess the difference between you and a "p*ssy" like me is that I don't patrol the streets with a gang of idiots attacking innocent people.

Cal:
Stop it.

Olivier:
Why? You're a cute guy.

Nessa:
Besides, we know he's a dirty, little sh*t-stuffer now, anyway, don't we? That's reason enough to hate the bastard.

Nessa:
Don't fret it, babe. He's out there somewhere, and when we find him, he's all yours.

Scott:
His name's Cal. He says he's nineteen. Nineteen... We exchanged numbers online. Classy, eh? He's a cute guy. Not my usual type. Christ, what the f*** was I thinking? I should have known when I got in that sh*t-heap car of his. He's a scally, a rough little thug. As for the drugs, I don't know what to say. I needed an escape.

Nessa:
Cal, you've been a bad boy.