Capshaw: I don't know what plans you have for my suture scissors, but I need them back.
Martin: I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.
Capshaw: Then you can't think very much of me.
Martin: You don't have the slightest clue what I think of you.
Capshaw: I won't ask you again. I'm doing you a favor, Whitly. Get caught with those scissors, 14 days in isolation. Neither of us want that, do we? Good boy.