How’d you get that limp, wrestlin with God?

JOHN WICK: …….

And the son, any chance of mercy?

JOHN WICK: “no”

And the lights, neon alright?

JOHN WICK: “perfect”

You’ve genocided countless people now; countless cars; countless dog’s masters… Are you still the victim?

JOHN WICK: “When Helen died, I lost everyth”

We buried her in Troy! How long John? How long?

JOHN WICK: “Since that dog arrived on my doorstep, a final gift from holy St. Helen… A semblance of hope… an opportunity. The son… took that from me… Stole that from me..”

Oh, God.

JOHN WICK: “Killed that from me! People keep asking if I’m back & I haven’t really had an answer. But now, yeah, I’m thinkin’ I’m back. So you can either hand over the son or die screaming alongside him!! У всего есть цена, сука!!!”

не эта сука.