Sidney Prescott: Sam, I want you to help us kill him.
Sam Carpenter: You want me to help you and the host of a morning show to commit murder?
Gale Riley: Correct.
Sidney Prescott: Yeah.
Emily: If you want to tell me what to do, put me on the fucking payroll.
Tangerine: You still got that vest on, yeah?
Lemon: Nah, vests give you a false sense of security, I might get shot in the neck.
Tangerine: Yeah, it also stops you getting shot in the chest, but I guess you missed that episode of Thomas, did ya?
Lemon: I really must of, because that sounds dark as shit.
(00:23:37)
Becky: Fuck off.
James Conner: Don't talk to me that way. Your mother and I raised you better than that.
Laurie Strode: Come and get me, motherfucker.
Lib Wright: That's a story, Kitty. I'm looking for facts.
Chef Slowik: Jeremy, do you want my life?
Greg: You'll see in the left hand column there's a list of names and addresses of the people I believe you hold near and dear. In the right hand column there's a very exact time for when those people will be...um... What's a nice word for it, Danny?
Danny: Uh, "eviscerated."
Greg: Well that's not a very nice word, is it?
Melinda: If you were married to anyone else, you'd be so fucking bored you'd kill yourself.
Vick Wallinger: We cannot afford the embarrassment of a prosecution. I need to know the man I send can do what's necessary.
Henry Pelham: You gonna say it?
Vick Wallinger: No, Henry, I'm not.
Lloyd Hansen: You wanna make an omelette, you gotta kill some people.
Mike: They told us it was just a data heist.
James: It's not data... it's a cure to a virus they want to fucking release so they can make billions off treating it.
Voight: I don't know what they promised you. Knowledge? Love? I sought pleasure. But all they have to give is pain. It's a trick. All of it.
Alice: Did you just fucking shoot me?
Jake: Maximize your wins, minimize your losses... and stay in the game as long as you can.
Elvis Cooney: What kind of a B-grade movie is this? (01:17:02)
Hayley: Yo, this spirit's a cunt.