Frank Allen: You caught me reminiscing. A lot of memories here. Buy you a drink?
Ed: Oh, I'd love to Frank, but uh... I'm kind of... I'm... I'm in a bit of a rush.
Frank Allen: I insist. After all, it is the traditional function of the father of the bride.
Ed: What is?
Frank Allen: Keeping the groom away from back exits.
Wade Wilson: Here's what I'm actually gonna do? I'm gonna work through his crew until somebody gives up Francis, force him to fix this, and then put a bullet in his skull and fuck the brain hole.
Weasel: I don't want to see that or think of it again. But the douchebag does think you're dead, right?
Wade Wilson: Yeah.
Weasel: That's good. You should keep it that way.
Wade Wilson: What, like, wear a mask?
Weasel: Yes. A very thick mask. All the time. I am sorry... You are haunting. Your face is the stuff of nightmares.
Wade Wilson: Like a testicle with teeth.
Weasel: You will die alone. I mean, if you could die. Ideally, for others' sake.
Wade Wilson: Do you like what you see?
Weasel: No. You look like an avocado had sex with an older, more disgusting avocado.
Wade Wilson: Yeah.
Weasel: Not gently. Like it was hate-fucking. There was something wrong with the relationship and that was the only catharsis that they could find without violence.
Wade Wilson: And the only guy the who fix this fugly mug is the British shitstick who ran the mutant factory. And he's gone. Poof!
Weasel: Yeah, well you gotta do something to remedy this because as of now, you only have one course of action.
Wade Wilson: Damn straight. Find Francis.
Weasel: Star in horror films.
Wade Wilson: What?
Weasel: Star in your own horror films. Because you look like Freddy Krueger face-fucked a topographical map of Utah.
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