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McKenna: Gotta get the stuff out of your apartment, put it in the shop, and then we’ll call in a raid.
Syd: You mean fentanyl out of my loft. I don’t pay what I pay in rent for an apartment.
McKenna: That’s what you’re seriously thinking about right now?
Syd: No, I’m thinking about how the hell I get the drugs out of my loft and into a stash house without anyone knowing.
- Permalink: That’s what you’re seriously thinking about right now?
Syd: Did you have them put your shoes back on?
Big Mikey: Damn right. You know how much these off-whites cost? You didn’t have to chase me.
McKenna: You didn’t have to run into traffic.
Big Mikey: Oh, so it’s my fault now?
Syd: You committed six homicides in two years, Big Mikey.
McKenna: All drug dealers in their stash houses.
Big Mikey: Nah, doesn’t sound like me. You ain’t got nothing.
Syd: Well, the DNA evidence and all of the witnesses tie you to the murders, so there’s that.
Big Mikey: You got DNA, forensics? OK.
McKenna: Well, there’s video.
- Permalink: Nah, doesn’t sound like me. You ain’t got nothing.