— Drop it.
— What, the tooth?
— No, not the tooth.
— I'm not dropping it.
— Well, it drops or you drop.
— This is a custom handmade Walther PPK that cost me nearly half a million dollars at auction.
— You bought a handgun for half a million dollars?
— And had my personal pistolsmith fit it with a vintage SD-22 SpielWaffen suppressor, of which there are six in the world, for an additional $250,000.
— 750,000 bucks?
— Correct.
— Why in the fuck, Pam, would you ever do something like that?
— Pam?
— Well, I never got your name so I just call you Pam.
— We've met?
— Many, many times, in passing. Let me see it. Slow. Hold it by the trigger guard.
— Handle it as if it were porcelain, please.
— Soft as a whisper. A. H.?
— Adolf, Hitler.
— Qué?
— It was a personal gift from Carl Walther. Hitler kept it in his desk in Munich.
— You've been killing me with fuckin' Hitler's gun this whole time?
— It was stolen by an American serviceman in 1945.
— Jesus, what is wrong with you?
— Fast-forward to present day... — a very pretty penny.
— I didn't think this could get any worse. And it has. Who sent you?
— Wouldn't you like to know.
— Hint, hint?
— Never. Are you gonna kill me now?
— No, Pam, I'm gonna shoot you. That's for the Jews. Those too.
