— Thomas Shelby.
— My hand was blood.
— Oh, mine too.
You go into the arena alone. The lions are hungry for you.
— You are forming an alliance with a fascist. So I made some enquiries amongst the worst people in Whitehall, and I found out that you are not forming an alliance with him at all. You are spying on him.
— Yes.
— Why?
— The honest answer is... I'm no longer sure.
— Did you dig your own garden, Mr Shelby? <...> ...there are certain species of weed that no matter how much you tug at them, poison them, they continue to grow back. In the end, the only solution is to plough up the top soil, create a field of mud and blow up and burn the exposed tap roots. That's what you and I did in France. But when I hear that man Mosley speak, I see the green shoots of another war growing up around his feet. And you see exactly the same thing I do. That's why you oppose him.
When we were young souls
On the junk-yard
Now we are stunned minds
Full of junk-goods.
But I feel your heartbeat
Just like mine
I feel your heartbeat
All the time.
— Let's go watch a movie.
— What? Hmm? Um, I'm... I'm free later this week. We could...
— No, I mean now.
— You could be an ax murderer.
— There's always that possibility. Come on, Hazel Grace, take a risk.
— I don't... Really? That is disgusting!
— What?
— What, do you think that that's cool or something? You just ruined this whole thing.
— The whole thing?
— Yes! This whole thing. You were doing really well, too. God. There's always a hamartia, isn't there? And yours is, even though you had freaking cancer, you're willing to give money to a corporation for the chance to acquire even more cancer? Let me just tell you that not being able to breathe sucks. It totally sucks!
— "Hamartia"?
— It's a fatal flaw.
— Ah, fatal... Hazel Grace, they don't actually hurt you unless you light them.
— Hmm?
— I never lit one. It's a metaphor, see? You put the thing that does the killing right between your teeth, but you never give it the power to kill you.
— A metaphor.