“Besides, you don't look a thing like him. I mean… hello? You're this beefy Irish white boy. He's like… bus exhaust or some shit.”

“Rhage's hand landed on Butch's shoulder. "Besides, you don't look a thing like him. I mean...hello? You're this beefy Irish boy. He's like...bus exhaust or some shit.”

“Jesus Christ. . . he was not Omega's son. Was he?"No." V said. "You are not. He just wants to believe you are. And he wants you to think you are. But that doesn't make it true."There was a long silence. Then Rhage's hand landed on Butch's shoulder. "Besides, you don't look a thing like him. I mean. . . hello? You are this beefy Irish white boy. He's like. . . bus exhaust or some shit."Butch glanced over at Hollywood. "You're sick, you know that?""Yeah, but you love me, right? Come on, I know you feel me.”

“You're some freaky shit, my brother. You really are”

“Man, that did his ego good. Matter of fact, she hit him with anything like that again, he was going to feel like he could bench-press a city bus. With a jet plane on its roof.”

“Shit... you're not coming with me, are you?" [Butch to Vishous]"I don't feel like killing anyone anymore.""Oh. Good. The idea that you might only cripple the guy makes me feel a fuck of a lot better about leaving you here.”

“I don't think we're fit for visual consumption."Adrian reached up and cranked the rearview mirror his way. "Whatever, I'm gorgeous...wow. I...""Look like shit.”