Original subtitles

You just killed a made man in the Gambino Family.

They're gonna come after us

with everything they've got!

I can make this go away.

We disappear the body.

What the fuck is that?

That is Zaccaro's hand, and he's about to go

on a one-man crime spree.

Everybody get on the floor!

You're getting fuckin' robbed!

Vincent Zaccaro's fingerprints were

found at that jewelry store, congratulations.

Dumb luck, really.

Overheard a bunch of Irish drunks.

Guy hasn't robbed a fuckin' jewelry store

since he's 20 years old. Now all a sudden

he's doing fuckin' smash and grabs? Fuck that.

It's those Irish bastards. I know it.

All right, what's your next move there,

- Bobby Fischer? - Take Zaccaro out of town.

Near Boston, make it seem like he's fleeing to Canada.

I got a friend up there runs a place,

- Corktown Pub. - You mean rob his own bar?

Fuckin' beat up his own mother if I told him to.

Fuck. We got a cop.

You mind if I take a look?

Fuck!

You just killed a fuckin' cop!

Should've known this thing would go tits up.

Look, we wiped down Pat's gun, put Zaccaro's prints

all over it. We even threw his fucking driver's license

- on the ground. - Let me tell you something

an old man knows that you don't.

The truth always comes out.

Let me be real clear.

If anything has happened to Vincent,

there will be fuckin' hell to pay.

John, I don't respond well to threats.

That ain't a threat, that's a fucking promise.

I agreed to hold the crate

for Ireland, not for you.

Does he believe in something beyond himself?

- He does. - What?

Me.

I'm just looking for Vincent Zaccaro.

Ain't seen him for a few days.

Wow, that's beautiful.

This? It was a gift.

- From who? - I really don't like

to divulge personal information.

Which one of you is Flanagan?

That's me. Who the fuck are you?

Get the fuck off me!

I had this machine imported from Italy.

They don't make 'em like that anymore.

Here.

I'm more of a whiskey guy.

Course you are.

This is a fuckin' party for you, right?

I'm always up

for a good time, John.

Phil, a bottle of whiskey.

Yeah, go fetch, Phil.

For our man here.

Good boy.

Piece of shit.

Stings, don't it?

Another round!

You fuckin' clown.

- Where's Zaccaro? - Look, fellas,

I told ya, I never heard of her.

They told me you was up in Bellevue to avoid a murder rap

and that you convinced 'em you were crazy.

You don't try that shit with me

or I'll cut your little Irish prick off.

No, sir.

I'm gonna ask you one more time.

What happened to Vincent Zaccaro?

Ask your mother, you fuck in wop cunt!

Motherfucker!

Fuckin' Irish piece of shit.

He's a tough kid though, I'll give him that.

When he wakes up, start again.

Right, people. Step back, please.

I think Declan's going be okay.

You need to tell me exactly what you said to John Gotti.

Just that Mickey gave me the bracelet, that's all.

And what did Gotti say?

That he was gonna have a talk with Mickey.

- That's all I know. - Fuck.

I'm scared. Is Mickey gonna die?

You know he could be gone already, right?

Don't fuckin' say that.

If he hadn't given Erin Malone that fuckin' bracelet,

Gotti would've never picked him up.

It wasn't Mickey's fault, all right?

I was the fuckin' one who killed Zaccaro, not him.

Yeah, but you did it to save Mickey.

Yeah, but all of that work for nothin'.

Just putting Zaccaro's prints every-fucking-where.

- It was a wasted effort. - No, it fucking wasn't.

Hey, Ray's buying you a round.

- Thanks, Danny. - Thanks, Ray.

Well, at least one good thing came out of it.

- I killed a cop. - Watch your fucking mouth.

You're lucky it didn't bring the Feds down on us

with that shit.

Look, I'm not giving up on Mickey

and neither should you.

We can get him back.

Okay. How?

Gotti has Mickey, I know it.

No doubt that fucking prick's

trying to find out what happened to Zaccaro.

Fuck! Gotti's gonna put his head in a vice,

and Mickey is gonna fuckin' talk.

No, no. No, he won't.

Jimmy, I know he's your friend,

but the kid is fuckin' crazy.

The Viet Cong had him for a year,

never said a goddamn word.

Gotti's worse than the Cong.

Where's Vincent Zaccaro?

Honest Abe, I don't know the man.

Jesus fucking Christ. Go ahead!

Zaccaro?

Hey, John.

You got your man here hitting for ya.

What, does he fuck your wife for you too?

This kid's got all the fuckin' jokes.

Give me that fuckin' thing.

Like baseball? Baseball fan?

What's your favorite team?

The Mets.

Little Irish cocksucker says he likes the Mets.

I knew he was a fucking loser. I'm a Yankee man.

The Yankees can suck my dick.

Fuck!

Look, one thing I know about Mickey, he's loyal.

All right? He'd never betray us.

Bullshit. He will crack.

Once Gotti gets fuckin' proof

that we whacked Zaccaro, he's gonna come

right after us. You know that, yeah?

Stop. There is no fucking "we."

"We" didn't fuckin' whack anybody this time.

Young Jimmy here did the deed.

All the more reason to send this fuckin' clown

over to Gotti then, and that'll be the end of it.

That will be right fuckin' over right then and there.

Yeah, you do that, and Gotti will use that

to squeeze you out of the Javits deal

with Castellano first fuckin' chance he gets.

And once he's done that, what's to stop him

just coming back and taking out

each and every fuckin' one of youse?

Fuck all!

He makes a good point, Eddie.

All right, bright boy. Bright fuckin' boy.

What's your brilliant fuckin' idea now, then?

Mr. Sweeney goes to Castellano himself,

demands he releases Mickey.

You tell him you got the wrong guy.

Are you kidding me?

Why the fuck would Castellano want to do that?

Why the fuck would he want to try to help

some fuckin' Mick that he doesn't know,

that he doesn't give a flying fuck about?

Will you fuckin' tell me that now?

Because Mr. Sweeney will make sure

he gives a flyin' fuck.

That if he allows Gotti to kill that fuckin' Mick,

then the Javits deal is done.

And I'm betting he doesn't wanna fuck that up

any more than we do.

I mean, you tell me, Eamon, you know Big Paul.

What does he care more about,

some... some dumb Mick

or the Javits Center?

Well, you got a lot of confidence

in my powers of persuasion.

You gotta admit, Eddie, the kid's using his head.

You could learn a thing or two.

State Trooper Ward was found on US-20

with a bullet in his head.

And Vincent Zaccaro's driver's license

on the ground next to him.

- Next to the body? - Yeah, there's more.

Zaccaro's prints were found

on a discarded weapon at the scene

and all over a robbery at an Irish bar in South Boston.

Weird, right?

Any idea where he is now?

What's wrong?

I know you're a good cop,

or you were once.

This thing doesn't stink to you?

Yeah, it stinks. That's a dead cop.

I hope you find this piece of shit Zaccaro.

Yeah, somehow I don't think we will.

- Why? Whattaya mean? - Why would John Gotti's

right-hand man go up to Boston,

rob a five-and-dime bar,

shoot a cop, then conveniently

leave this driver's license on the ground?

I don't know.

It doesn't make any sense.

Maybe he was an oiler or a coke head or something.

- He went on a spree. - Get real.

Something stinks,

and I have a feeling you're not telling me everything.

Okay, hold on a second.

I'm the one that told you.

Zaccaro robbed a jewelry store.

Which you overheard from a bunch of drunks at a bar.

Who are they? How'd they know that?

Bring 'em in for questioning.

I don't even know 'em. I barely remember

- what they look like. - Do your fucking job,

Officer Keenan.

Bring us something we can use.

Brendan Cahill. I know of the name.

Bright lad, they'd say.

But he's the kind that'd...

kick a door down before checking who's behind it.

Well, he wants to light a fire,

here in New York,

and he said I was needed. So I helped him.

Do you have any idea what he is planning?

I haven't a clue.

You know...

I've smuggled out over two dozen people

from Ireland over the last 15 years.

Real targets.

People the Brits would have disappeared if they could.

You were one of them.

I owe you my life.

So...

I guess I should buy you a pint.

Ray, can I have one more?

You got it.

How's Jimmy?

Getting into trouble, mostly. Still breathing.

Well, always had a talent for getting into trouble.

Used to steal the candles after Mass

and sell them out the back of the bodega

to pay for his mum's prescriptions.

You're kidding me.

Yeah.

Cheers.

That's when I knew

he wasn't bad.

He was bent like a nail

that's been hammered too many times.

But even a bent nail holds things up, right?

Yeah, yeah. He holds me up.

I introduced him to you for a reason.

If it was to make an honest woman out of me,

Father... you're a wee bit late.

Gotti called.

It checks out. He has your man.

Paul, I need him back.

Gotti took this man for no good reason.

John tells a different story.

He's convinced that your guy...

Mickey Flanagan.

That he may have something to do

with Vincent Zaccaro's disappearance.

All due respect, Paul,

that's a load of horseshit from Gotti.

This Zaccaro is on the lam, cops are looking for him.

Check with your boys in blue,

I know you got plenty on the payroll.

Our work is never done, right, Eamon?

Absolutely.

Every fucking day it's something.

You know what I like about you?

You understand how things work.

Zaccaro's made.

If this Flanagan did something to him,

my hands would be tied.

Of course.

But Flanagan didn't do anything.

Besides which,

who's making more money for you right now,

me or John Gotti?

You and I are businessmen?

But, let's face it,

we have a bunch of savages working for us.

Yeah, we do.

We gotta keep 'em in line.

One way to do that is to make them think

they're making their own decisions.

Paul, the Feds are paying a lot of attention

to what happens on the West Side right now.

Any unnecessary violence...

could be bad for our bottom line.

I'm gonna give you a few of these to take home.

They're addictive.

Thank you.

Madone. Ha!

Once you taste 'em, you're hooked.

Just like my guys are hooked on easy cash?

The kind that narcotics bring.

Maybe you can do a little favor for me.

And in return, I'll,

pull some strings with Mr. Gotti.

What do you have in mind?

The Starship?

What the fuck does Paul Castellano care

about some fuckin' disco in Jackson Heights?

It's not about the nightclub,

it's about what's going on inside.

What, dancing?

- Cocaine, you fuckin idiot. - It's a fuckin' joke, Breen.

The club is a front

for a Colombian distribution network.

Apparently some of Castellano's captains

are going against his wishes, trafficking in narcotics.

Why doesn't he just ask Gotti to stop?

He already did.

Sometimes his men don't listen.

Hard to believe, I know.

So what does he want us to do?

Make it go away.

Kill the Colombians.

Jesus Mother Mary.

- Fuck's sakes. - I'd rather go to Studio 54.

How many?

I don't know. All of 'em.

Big Paul wants to send a message.

He says the dope operation's in the basement.

That sounds pretty fuckin' dangerous.

So if we do this,

Gotti definitely gives back Mickey, right?

Nothing definite in this fuckin' world, Jimmy.

But... Big Paul gave me his word.

I don't trust any fucking wop.

Look, it's up to you boys.

But if you want Mickey back...

I think this is your best bet.

Yeah.

All right. We'll do it. For Mickey.

Yeah, for Mickey.

Wow. You look incredible.

You didn't have to buy a new dress for this.

I borrowed it from Erin.

I mean, you wanted to get past the bouncers, didn't you?

You want to leave the apartment, don't you?

Do I look ridiculous?

You look like the most beautiful lass

I have ever laid eyes on.

Well, beauty is transitory.

Soon I'm going to be old and craggy.

What are you gonna do then?

I'd love you even more.

We should stop.

Can you zip me up?

Like you said, we're doing this for Mickey.

Yeah, I know.

I just don't like involving you in this shit.

Why? Is it gonna be dangerous?

No. No, I'm just gonna

scope this place out, that's all.

Look, I appreciate you helping us out, you know.

It's just something I had to do to get.

- Mickey back. - It's awful what happened.

I will do whatever I can to help.

All right. C'mon, we're gonna be late.

Wow. Look at you.

Now, act like you got a little class.

Okay, ladies, excuse us for a sec.

Be right back. Boys.

Hey, don't go talking to no one, okay? Just the girls.

Yeah.

All right, so we're not here to have a good time. Okay?

Until we figure out exactly how many

of these Colombians we're up against

and how we get into this fuckin' basement.

And then what, Jimmy?

Just note exits, bouncers, all that shit.

- We're casing the joint. - Yeah, exactly.

- Yeah. - Look, we do this,

Mickey's a day closer to gettin' home.

Yeah.

Pat. Stay fuckin' sober.

Yeah, Pat, take it easy.

- You can have a couple. - We can have beer, right?

Have a couple beers, and that's it. Nothing brown.

Look, I can't dance. All right?

- I'm not good at this. - Do you want me to teach you?

- Yo, I want one more. - Gonna go check this guy out.

All right.

I have to go have a look around.

Have fun.

If that's possible.

VIP section, guy named Jose.

He's got snow for retail.

You just give him this, and they'll let you in.

- All right, nice work. - There you go.

- Look after the girls. - All right.

Jose?

I was told to come and find you.

Vamos.

Evening, hermano.

Sit.

What do you want?

I'm lookin' for some weight.

Eight-ball?

Maybe a quarter if you kiss me first.

I'm talkin' real weight.

A kilo, maybe two.

We don't sling warehouse orders to strangers.

I'm not a stranger.

No?

I work for Vincent Zaccaro.

I never see you before.

I'm his new connect.

South Bronx.

Zaccaro told me to come here, cop some weight.

Okay. Come with me.

Follow me.

This way.

You say Zaccaro sent you.

How come he didn't call to tell us?

No clue. He said he would.

And who the fuck are you?

My name is Pete Hedges.

And, as I told your associate here,

I'm Vincent's new contact in the Bronx.

I'm looking for two keys.

Maybe more if I like the quality.

Calling Zaccaro.

Until he tells me you're his man,

I ain't doing shit.

Not around.

Guess you're out of luck.

Let's go.

Si, si.

Puta.

Papi's a little paranoid.

He's worried everyone's out to get him.

You don't worry.

Zaccaro calls, you'll be in.

Yeah. But you can't be too cautious?

Look, I appreciate the tour, hermano.

You guys got a real operation here.

We don't fuck around.

- I hope to see you soon. - Yeah.

You too.

Go have fun. Dance.

Have a good time.

Wow. Wow, that's so terrible.

Fuck you!

Fuckin' A.

Yeah?

Fuck you!

You a fucking tough guy?

- Piece of shit! - Stop it! Hey! Jimmy!

- That way! That way! - Exit! Now!

- Come on! - Jimmy! Come on!

Fuckin' move! Go, go!

Every fucking time!

You'll get used to it.

What'd I fucking say, Pat? You asshole!

You fuckin' animal. Go on.

What? What? I'm fine, relax...

- He fuckin' hit me. - Go, go, go.

- I fuckin' am! - Yeah.

- You all right? You all right? - Yeah, I'm fine.

Why are you so mad all the time?

John. How are you?

Hi, Paul. How you doin'?

I'm good.

Let's go in here.

Sit down.

I'm good standing, thanks.

Thank you, Gloria.

So, you're hot about this Irish kid.

- He still alive? - Yeah, he is.

But why the fuck are you tyin' my hands on this?

For what?

For bigger things than Vinnie Zaccaro,

who, let's face it, is a scumbag.

Vinnie Zaccaro is my right-hand man.

I'm told he's on the lam.

Well, that doesn't make any fuckin' sense.

Vinnie wouldn't just disappear without telling me.

His fuckin' wife comes to see me,

she don't know where he is. Those Irish bastards

are responsible for this, Paul, I know it.

I need those Irish bastards.

Fuck them. You don't need them.

I can run the Javits.

John...

I would consider letting you do that

even though it's their turf.

But you've been a naughty boy.

All due respect,

drugs are here to stay.

They're the future.

And if we don't sell 'em, somebody else will.

I won't have it.

Drugs are dirty and dangerous.

And I'm not gonna jeopardize everything I've built

- for a quick buck. - I don't hear you complaining

when I kick up, whether that shit is

from narcotics or not.

We stay above the gutter.

That's how we survive.

Yeah.

I'm from the gutter, Paul.

Hell, most of us are.

But you're the boss.

What do you got?

That's from the drywallers.

Said to thank you for not setting fire

to their scaffolding like you did last month.

Sounds to me like that must've been spontaneous combustion,

caused by unpaid dues.

Hello? Yeah.

Yeah.

I got it. I got it.

Eamon.

Did you know that Zaccaro killed a cop?

- What's this now? - Hard to believe, isn't it?

I mean, I don't believe it.

Neither does the fuckin' Gambino Squad.

Okay. I don't know what the fuck you're talking about?

What I'm talking about

is what the fuck have you gotten me into?

What are you using me for?

I'm not using you for anything.

Aw, come on, Eamon. Cut the shit!

This is you and me talkin'.

A dead cop is serious fuckin' business.

If I get locked up for this, you're going with me.

All right, don't, just don't be such a fuckin' drama queen.

Tell me exactly what they said.

They don't believe Zaccaro

robbed some fuckin' pub up in Boston,

then murdered a cop on US-20,

and they're lookin' to me for answers.

Fuck am I supposed to tell them?

Nothing, Glenn.

- There's nothing to tell. - Okay.

I'm gonna say this again.

If they find out I gave them false information,

that puts me an accessory.

Now, maybe you don't mind going to jail, but I do.

Do you know who killed this cop?

Course not.

But what... what kind of evidence

are they sayin' they got?

Nothing yet.

But I gotta find some.

I'll see ya.

Yeah.

Fuckin' hell.

What are you doing with those?

Aren't you supposed to be at work?

Answer my question first.

Finishing what I started to get Mickey back.

So... The Starship.

Yeah, but what exactly?

I'd rather not say, Bridget.

So what, are you robbing the disco?

No, I'm not.

I have to send a message to the Colombians who run it.

Do not sell cocaine to John Gotti. All right?

So, these Colombians, I assume, are heavily armed.

So, what kind of damage do you think you're gonna do

- with those pea shooters? - The boys are coming with me,

all right? I'll be fine.

You went down there, right? So you saw them.

- Do they have you outnumbered? - I can handle this, Bridget.

- Stop fuckin' worrying. - I understand

Mickey is your mate. Okay? You love him.

I love him too. But this is fucking suicide!

Yeah, I know. All right? I fuckin' know that!

But what other choice do I have?

Maybe I can help.

I had the best night of my life last night.

What the fuck happened?

Mr. Sweeney let me work Madison Square Garden.

You lucky bastard. Doing what?

Pick up used tickets from the old ladies at the door

and hand 'em to scalpers who resell 'em.

That's awesome.

Best part?

I got to watch the Rangers kick the Flyers' ass, 4-3.

You lucky bastard.

- Hey, Glenn. - Ray.

- Usual? - Yeah.

Excuse us, I need to talk to my son.

Yeah, we're busy.

- Go on, make yourself scarce. - No.

- Get the fuck outta here! - Don't fucking touch me!

Fuckin' punk.

Now, I don't know why the fuck you're not in school,

but let's set that aside.

I'm gonna ask you a few questions.

- And you're gonna answer. - Is that right?

Yeah, it is.

A cop was murdered the other day.

A State Trooper. Shot in the head.

You hear anything about this?

No.

It was someone from Sweeney's crew, right?

Why you asking me? I don't know shit.

'Cause you run with those fucking mutts.

You're Sweeney's messenger boy.

- They talk to you. - Look, they don't

tell me shit, and even if they did,

I wouldn't tell you. If you ask me,

only good cop is a dead cop.

Who did it?

You're gonna fuckin' tell me.

Who did it?

I hope there's something good in here.

Those Colombians got Uzis and shit.

Yeah, Jimmy said there's, like,

- twice as many of 'em as us. - We shouldn't be

doing this for the Italians in the first place.

Hey, we're not doing this for them.

We're doin' this for Mickey, all right?

- Yeah, it's this one. - Yeah.

Holy shit.

What the fuck is this?

It's a rocket-propelled grenade. Very powerful.

How the fuck do you use it?

Bridget?

So, you load the warhead, keep the tube

on your shoulder, and you sight the target,

and you make sure that there's nothing behind you,

well, unless you want them burned alive.

And, how many warheads are there?

There's just one.

That's all you, Sean. That's you, buddy.

Yeah. Fuck, yeah it is.

All right.

I don't know who I am anymore, Father.

I've done some questionable things.

Some terrible things.

And not just broken my oath as a police officer.

I'm a...

failure as a father...

maybe as a man.

I'm ashamed.

I'm so ashamed.

You're here now.

Take your time.

There was a murder.

A murder of a cop in Massachusetts, and I...

I know who did it.

A guy from the neighborhood, my son told me.

Thing is, the killer is the kind of man

my son admires.

Worse than that, the kind of man

my son could someday become.

That scares me to death.

That keeps me up at night.

God has a plan

and a purpose for every soul on Earth.

It's your job to help your son fulfill that purpose.

How? When there is no justice to be found?

I mean, I'm a cop. I'm out there every day.

I see it.

And there is no justice, Father.

There's heavenly justice.

And here on Earth,

a more imperfect version.

What does that mean?

The Bible teaches us an eye for an eye.

And, of course, we have our man-made laws as well.

Perhaps real justice...

lies somewhere in between the two.

Now remember if it was any of you in this position,

we would be doing everythin' we could to get you back.

You think one rocket's gonna do it

against the machine guns?

Yeah, this whole thing is fucked, Jimmy.

Hey Pat, killing a cop is easy for you,

but you're afraid of a few Colombians?

I ain't afraid of nothin'.

That's what I wanna hear.

Now, that alleyway behind the disco

we came into last night?

That's our way back in.

We go back through that service door,

through the club quietly.

And down the basement stairs on the left.

And down there, the place is crawling with Colombians,

and, yes, they are heavily armed.

So Connor, Pat, you stick with me.

And Sean, you hang back with the rocket

until we give the word, and then when we do,

- move fucking fast. - Jesus Christ, Jimmy,

you've been watching too many war movies.

We're all gonna get fuckin' killed.

And Mickey may already be dead.

'Kay, well, first off, Mickey's

one tough motherfucker, we all know that.

And secondly, these Italian assholes

have their fuckin' rules. Gotti will not kill Mickey

without a pass from Castellano.

Which is why we are doing this favor for him

in the first place.

So Castellano doesn't give Gotti that pass.

So, remember that, and let's get this fuckin' job done.

Fuck it. If we all gotta die to save

some mentally deranged Vietnam vet

who's probably suicidal anyway,

then so be it.

'Cause that's our fuckin' friend.

Slàinte.

Slàinte, boys.

All right, let's go.

All right, so, stairs to the basement

are underneath the VIP area.

I'll lead us down there.

Sean, give us 60 seconds head start

to clear the hallway,

- then it's your show. - Copy.

Ready?

Sh, sh, sh.

Hey. My friend wanted to apologize.

Sorry.

All right. Sean?

- Yeah. - Post up there.

- All right, Jimmy. - Cover me.

Get the fuck down!

- He's out! - Sean?

God! God! Shit!

- You good? - Yeah! Yeah! Yeah.

All right, get the fuck out of here!

Fuck! Let's go, guys!

Drop it.

Fucking go!

Woo! Go!

Let's go, let's go, move!

- You idiots! - Stop, Sean, stop!

Where the fuck were ya?

Took a souvenir.

Look at all that coke!

All right, Sean, we gotta fucking go, bud!

Go, go!

Yeah? Paul.

What? Are you fuckin' kidding me?

I haven't gotten one single word from Zaccaro yet!

All right, relax. Yeah, yeah.

Okay, all right, all right, all right, all right.

No need to get pissed off.

You got a horseshoe up your ass,

you leprechaun Lucky Charms motherfucker.

Cut him loose.

At least your Jimmy had a few moves.

Yeah, he's got more than a few moves.

Excuse me, ladies. I've been looking for you.

Quick word?

Good news. Our timeline has been ramped up.

Soon I'll be taking that weapon off your hands.

Wow, he actually wins one. Wow.

Fuck off.

Finally got a little competition here, Eddie.

Good, only four more to go.

- Here we go. - I saw your fucking missus

the other day, by the way.

Try that one? What do you think of that?

Trump.

You know, that's good. That's better.

That's best.

No! Fuck sakes!

Feast your eyes on the winner!

Jesus Christ. If I would've bet

on the sun goin' down, I'd still fuckin' lose.

Most likely, yeah. Happened hours ago.

Hey, now. Officer fuckin' Wet Blanket. Wee-woo!

Need a word.

Well, I'm done kickin' their ass, yeah.

I know who killed that cop in Massachusetts.

- Do you now? - It was fuckin' Pat Murphy.

What makes you say that?

You got loose lips in your crew,

let's leave it that. And even though

I don't take kindly to fuckin' cop killers,

I won't tell no one.

Yeah, I hope not, for your sake.

Yeah, well, the thing is,

if I can figure it out, so can the Gambino squad.

So, you think Pat Murphy's gonna shut his fuckin' mouth

he gets pinched?

Say you're right, hypothetically.

What are you proposing?

I'll make it go away.

For a price.

How much?

Nothin'.

I just want you to leave my boy Danny alone.

Do not hire him, do not talk to him.

If he talks to you, tell him to fuck off.

- That's it? - That's it.

In return, I'll handle Pat Murphy.

Well, look who decided to join us.

I didn't talk, Jimmy.

I didn't say a fuckin' word.

- I swear. - Hey, hey.

I know you didn't.

Now, you just relax and get better now.

Found you a great nurse.

Hey, Mickey.

I won't be leaving your side.

Fuck.

Just talked to Jimmy.

Mickey's gonna be fine.

Well, Mickey's never been fine.

It's too bad Gotti didn't kidnap you, Pat.

None of us woulda fuckin' bothered.

Fuck off.

All right. To Mickey!

- To Mickey. - Slàinte, boys.

Slàinte.

Hey, Pat, you ever try smiling,

maybe show your teeth a little bit,

just to let people know you're human?

Yeah, well, you know what, I'll let you ladies

have a laugh without me. I'm finished.

Come on, pal. Where ya going?

There's a nice fat Dominican bitch moved in my building.

She's a lot more fun than you lot.

Well, maybe she can fuck a smile into that face, Pat.

I feel sorry for that fat Dominican bitch.

What the fuck?

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