Nan: Let me explain something.
Logan: Oh, please.
Nan: You can't put a value on what we do.
Logan: Funny, I have put a value on what you do.
Nan: Well, if you won't budge, then I'm afraid we have no deal.
Logan: Then we're done. [goes to the door] Ahh, would you like to hear my favorite passage from Shakespeare? Take the fuckin' money.
Kendall: Yeah, I don't know. He's, he's just, maybe, uh, he's concerned about me. For whatever reason.
Shiv: Yeah? For whatever reason?
Kendall: You'd need to ask him.
Shiv: You can't tell me? You can't tell me what's goin' on?
Shiv: Fucking look at me.
Kendall: Shiv, it's not gonna be me.
Shiv: Alright, you want to tell me why?
Kendall: Come here. Give me a hug.
Shiv: A hug? Hey? You OK?
Kendall: [crying] I would just ask that you take care of me because, uh, if Dad didn't need me right now, I don't exactly know... what I would be for.
Shiv: You want to talk some more?
Kendall: I, I really can't. But, uh, thank you. Yeah, it ain't gonna be me.
Gerri: You're acting like an over-excited little boy.
Roman: You know, technically, I'm your fuckin' boss.
Gerri: Got to bed, Roman. Go to bed and masturbate all your ideas out, and let's see how excited you feel tomorrow.
Roman: Well, maybe I will. Maybe I'll just leave you on the pillow so you can hear my brilliance cascading.
Gerri: Fine. I've heard plenty more than a spoiled brat ejaculating on himself.
Roman: Oh yeah? You sure about that? I could be doing it now for all you know.
Gerri: Well get going. Chop chop. [listens] You disgusting little pig. You're pathetic. You are a revolting little worm, aren't you?
Roman: Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I am. [groans]
Gerri: You little slime puppy.
Roman: What else am I?
Gerri: You're revolting, Roman.
Roman: Yes! Yeah!
Greg: Like, I don't know. I don't want to bring up to you anything that feels horrible, but would it be bad for me to mention that to you now?
Tom: Are you ASKING if you can blackmail me?
Greg: No, I would hate that. It's just for context.
Tom: Very well. I accept your blackmail.
Greg: No, I'm not blackmailing you.
Tom: You are though, you piece of shit.
Greg: I'm not!
Tom: Greg, I'm gonna celebrate you. New title, a ton more money, a nice new office. You're movin' up. You can throw away the training bra. A seat at the big table. You like that? Yeah?
Greg: Yeah, I like that.
Tom: You fuckin'. Look at you! Where are they, those papers?
Greg: I'll never tell.
Tom: [laughs] You're a fuckin' slimeball! Atta boy!
God. This is a nightmare. Why couldn't I be the one caught in a lockdown with a maniac?Connor
Shiv: Well, if the business side could work, then I guess one pitch for the family could be "Waystar isn't coming in to fuck you but to make sweet, sweet Barry White-investment love. Beauty saved the beast would be the spin.
Rhea: I think it's very telling that your most positive spin still sounds a bit rapey?
Shiv: Not your favored style, huh?
Rhea: Well, it depends on what you think news is -- a public utility or entertainment option.
Kendall: You can actually do both. Inform and engage.
Rhea: Well, it's certainly full of vim. Full of piss and vinegar.
Tom: Sorry. But are you attempting to break up with me, Greg?
Greg: It's just. Dude. ATN? Human furniture? Like verbal assaults, physical humiliations, Nazi stuff. Shooters. I just don't love it. Like I really don't love it, and I want to go explore.
I've just been thinking a lot recently, and yeah, I don't know. I'm in the shadow of a giant here aka you. [Tom laughs] And um, you know, like do I want to maybe catch some sunlight if I want to grow? Like, would it be OK for me to maybe take a chance and go to another department?Greg
Oh fuck. This is not good, Greg. Look, she's trying to make me look like a coward hiding in a fucking closet while she's out there breakdancing with gunfire.Tom
Willa: I am so sorry for your loss, Maria. You know, I never met Mo, but I heard that he was just a great guy.
Maria: Um, Mo?
Willa: Your husband?
Connor: We're so sorry. [whispering to Willa] His name's not Mo.
Willa: What? You called him Mo.
Connor: His name's Lester.
Willa: OK. So why does everyone call him Mo?
Connor: His real name is Lester! It was, I guess I haven't thought about it in a while, but it was kind of a joke.
Willa: Like what?
Connor: Mo-lester. I guess it wasn't a very nice joke.
Will: And was he one?
Connor: Oh! God not. Just, old Mr. Fiddlesticks. Uncle Meathands. Dad wouldn't let us in the pool with him. But you know, the guys of that generation? It was a different time.
Tom: What the fuck? We got the shit room!
Greg: That makes total sense because this room doesn't feel that safe. Is that airtight? And is that bulletproof? Is this room bulletproof? I mean, they could waft gas in here, right?
Guard: I don't think the speculation is very helpful.
Greg: I mean, these are things you think about when you're designing a panic room. I'm just saying. And, a person can fit through there! A person can definitely fit through that window. A small person! An attack child!