The thing is, Butch, right now... you got ability.
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5.8s
But painful as it may be, ability... don't last.
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5.2s
Pride only hurts. It never helps.
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- Shit. - [ Grunts ]
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I'm fucked. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. - [ Vincent ] ls he a friend of yours? - Oh, goddamn. Goddamn. [ Jules ] Hmm? Oh. Vincent, Marvin. Marvin, Vincent. - Better tell him to shut up. He's gettin' on my nerves. - Fuck. [ Muttering ] Marvin. Marvin! I'd knock that shit off if I was you. - [ Door Slams ] - Die, you motherfuckers! Die! [ Hammer Clicking ]
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- Hey, mister. - What? You were in that fight, the fight on the radio. - You're the fighter? - Whatever gave you that idea? No, come on. You're him. I know you're him.
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Hey, is Grace all right out front? - Yeah. It ain't Tuesday, is it? - No, it's Thursday. - She oughta be fine. - Mmm.
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Besides, Butch, how many fights you think you got in you anyway? Hmm? Two?
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Say it.
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Mia. Mia.
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[ Chuckles ] The night of the fight, you may feel a slight sting.
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Boxers don't have an old-timers' day.
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You fight through that shit.
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[ Exhales ] - Here you go, Mr. Wolf. - Thank you, Jimmie.
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- Vincent. - [ Wolf ] Okay, gentlemen. You both been to County before, I'm sure. Here it comes. - Goddamn! The water's fuckin' cold! - Yo! Yo! Yo! Better you than me, gentlemen. [ Chuckling ] - Don't be afraid of the soap. Spread it around. - [ Yelling Continues ] - Get 'em there a little bit. Vincent's hair. - Hey, get out of my hair! - Come on. Do it, goddamn it! Do it! - Uh, um- Towel.