Trevor: Hey.

Michael: Fuck ... What do you want?

Trevor: I'm your friend. I don't want anything ... Come on, your company is already enough, isn't it? As always.

Michael: Yeah ... Thanks. I really appreciate.

Trevor: So! The family hasn't come back yet, has it?

Michael: No.

Trevor: She's really crazy.

Michael: Despite all the mess of the past few weeks, I think I understand. I know, it seems ridiculous.

Trevor: No. No, no. To be honest it doesn't seem ridiculous. You know? Because you, you are a murderer. You know? You are a man of action! You don't lounge on the sofa, you make the shots! You're back. We're back! Quite right? We just have to free Brad and we'll go great! Franklin makes us multiracial. Lester makes us technological. We are like modern America. We just need a gay friend. Bam!

Michael: No. It's not like that. I have the money, it just makes you unhappy. I want to make films.

Trevor: Great, great ... and, um ... Where exactly am I going on stage?

Michael: We will make this last big hit and then the collaboration will be over.

Trevor: This isn't a game for me! OK? It's a fucking lifestyle.
Michael: I have a fucking family!

Trevor: Yeah, well, I have nothing! Nobody gives a shit about me!

Michael: Yes to me.

Trevor: Oh ... fuck you. I saw your grave. I cried for you. And in the end I found out that everything I believed about you was wrong. All! You are not dead and you are not even a man.

Michael: Well, so what the fuck are you?

Trevor: I'm your worst nightmare!

Michael: Ok, enough of these fucking threats!

Trevor: I want ... I just want to ask you something. OK? Something that ... I've been thinking about for a long time. In North Yankton ... Who was buried in your place?

Michael: I never worried about it.

Trevor: Do you know what I'm thinking about?

Michael: I have no idea.

Trevor: Ugly lousy traitor! You are dead! You're fucking dead!

Michael: Oh, fuck! Trevor! Hey, T!
Trevor: Fuck!