PINKY: Me and the boys talked it over. We think you're a really straight fellow. Well, I've never been accused of that before, but I appreciate the sentiment. You're one of us now.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
8s
What a lovely thing to say. Thank you, dear Pinky. Thank you, Gunther. Thank you, Wolf. Anything else?
The Grand Budapest Hotel
4.9s
Mendl's again? Precisely. Who's got the throat slitter?
The Grand Budapest Hotel
2.7s
May I offer any of you inmates a plate of mush?
The Grand Budapest Hotel
2.2s
You want me to? Read it.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
1.2s
Tell him, Ludwig.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
1.6s
Yes?
The Grand Budapest Hotel
9.7s
Which way to the safe house? I couldn't find one. No safe house? Really? We're completely on our own out here? I'm afraid so. I asked around, but...
The Grand Budapest Hotel
6.5s
Say again? Well, you see, my father was murdered and the rest of my family were executed by firing squad.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
5s
Truly. Well, I suppose I'd better take back everything I just said.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
3.2s
What a bloody idiot I am. Pathetic fool.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
2.2s
Goddamn, selfish bastard.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
1.2s
The war.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
3.7s
We were happy here. For a little while.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
2.2s
I apologize on behalf of the hotel.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
2.4s
You must know that.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
10.4s
To the story. I get it. Go on. I was the official witness in Madame D's presence to the creation of a second will to be executed only in the event of her death by murder. A second will? Right.
The Grand Budapest Hotel
1m2s
Perhaps as a result of this general silence, I had established a casual and bantering familiarity with the hotel's concierge, a West-continental known only as Monsieur Jean, who struck one as being, at once, both lazy and, really, quite accommodating. I expect he was not well paid. In any case, one evening, as I stood conferring elbow-to-elbow with Monsieur Jean, as had become my habit, I noticed a new presence in our company. A small, elderly man, smartly dressed, with an exceptionally lively, intelligent face and an immediately perceptible air of sadness. He was, like the rest of us, alone, but also, I must say, he was the first that struck one as being deeply and truly lonely. A symptom of my own medical condition as well. Who's this interesting old fellow? I inquired of Monsieur Jean. To my surprise, he was distinctly taken aback. Don't you know? He asked. Don't you recognize him? He did look familiar. That's Mr. Moustafa himself. He arrived earlier this morning.
