Ilsa: And when I asked you about rescue options, you said there weren't any.
Christopher: Well, I meant that I couldn't think of any.
Ilsa: Well, what's the difference?
Christopher: In the interim, I may have... thought of one.

Guerrero: Dude, no way.
Winston: Why? It's a simple Norma Jean.
Guerrero: First of all, there's no such thing as a simple Norma Jean. When a Norma Jean goes bad, it goes real bad. A Norma Jean went bad on my cousin Pat. She ended up pregnant with twins.

Susan Connors: Do I need to ask why you have a full syringe of anesthetic in your pocket?
Christopher: Well, I brought someone with me to help find you. Someone who I was worried might try to screw me over.
Susan Connors: And where exactly is this someone now?
Christopher: Screwing me over.

Guerrero: Fine. Then I'll go.
Winston: And do what,. Put a gun to Harmen's head?
Guerrero: What's wrong with putting a gun to his head? A lot of productive things have happened by putting a gun to someone's head.

Baptiste: And besides, it suddenly occurred to me that--and despite what this says about me and despite how truly distressing the thought... you might be the last friend I've got on this earth.
Christopher: I spent most of the last six years wishing you were dead. We're not friends. Not by any definition I know of.
Baptiste: Yeah, well, beggars can't be choosers, right?