Angel: What are you doing here? EZ: We have to talk, Angel. Angel: There's nothing to talk about. EZ: Yeah, there is. Angel: What's your sponsor saying? Golden boy didn't get the votes he needs? EZ: I don't give a fuck about the vote. Angel: If this is about Pop, man, stay out of it. Its none of your fucking business. EZ: It's not about Pop. It's about Mom. Angel: What? EZ: I know who killed her.
Potter: Not many butcher shops with a classic literature section. Felipe: I know who you are. Potter: Obviously, a meat-eater. Of course, you know who I am. I wouldn't expect anything less from a man with your experience. Felipe: This about my son? Potter: Actually, it's about you, Ignacio. And your days as an inspector in División Antidrogas. I have so many questions. I truly hope that Ezekiel gets his eidetic memory from you.