Vesper Lynd: [sitting on opposite sides of the dinner table, discussing poker skills on the train heading towards Montenegro] What else can you surmise, Mr. Bond?
James Bond: About you, Miss Lynd? Well, your beauty's a problem. You worry you won't be taken seriously.
Vesper Lynd: Which one can say of any attractive woman with half a
brain.
James Bond: True. But this one overcompensates by wearing slightly masculine clothing. Being more aggressive than her female colleagues. Which gives her a somewhat *prickly* demeanor, and ironically enough, makes it less likely for her to be accepted and promoted by her male superiors, who mistake her insecurities for arrogance. Now, I'd have normally gone with "only
child," but, you see, by the way you ignored the quip about your parents... I'm gonna have to go with "orphan."
Vesper Lynd: All right... by the cut of your suit, you went to Oxford or wherever. Naturally you think human beings dress like that. But you wear it with such disdain, my guess is you didn't come from money, and your school friends never let you forget it. Which
means you were at that school by the grace of someone else's charity - hence that chip on your shoulder. And since your first thought about me ran to "orphan," that's what I'd say you are.
[he smiles but says nothing]
Vesper Lynd: Oh, you are? I like this poker thing. And that makes perfect sense! Since MI6 looks for maladjusted young men, who give little thought to
sacrificing others in order to protect Queen and country. You know... former SAS types with easy smiles and expensive watches.
[Glances at his wrist]
Vesper Lynd: Rolex?
James Bond: Omega.
Vesper Lynd: Beautiful. Now, having just met you, I wouldn't go as far as calling you a cold-hearted bastard...
James
Bond: No, of course not.
Vesper Lynd: But it wouldn't be a stretch to imagine. You think of women as disposable pleasures, rather than meaningful pursuits. So as charming as you are, Mr. Bond, I will be keeping my eye on our government's money - and off your perfectly-formed arse.
James Bond: You noticed?
Vesper Lynd:
Even accountants have imagination. How was your lamb?
James Bond: Skewered! One sympathizes.
Vesper Lynd: Good evening, Mr. Bond.
James Bond: Good evening, Ms. Lynd.
James Bond: [after Bond has just lost his 10 million in the game, to the bartender in the casino] Vodka-martini.
Bartender: Shaken or stirred?
James Bond: [agitated] Do I look like I give a damn?
James Bond: [to the bar tender in the casino] Dry Martini.
Bartender: Oui, monsieur.
James Bond: Wait... three measures of Gordon's; one of vodka; half a measure of Kina Lillet. Shake it over ice, and add a thin slice of lemon peel.
Bartender: Yes, sir.
Tomelli: You know, I'll have one
of those.
Infante: So will I.
Bartender: Certainly.
Felix Leiter: My friend, bring me one as well, keep the fruit.
Le Chiffre: [annoyed] That's it, hmm? Anyone want to play poker now?
Felix Leiter: Someone's in a hurry.
James Bond: [tied to a wooden chair as he is being tortured] I've got a little itch, down there. Would you mind?
James Bond: [laughing - after being stuck five times with a knotted rope inside a steel chamber] Now the whole world's gonna know that you died scratching my balls!
Le Chiffre: [holding the rope over one shoulder] Oh... I died? I died?
James Bond: [laughing] Yeah! 'Cause no matter what you do, I'm not gonna give you the password
which means your clients are gonna hunt you down and cut you into little pieces of meat while you're still breathing. Because if you kill me, there'll be nowhere else to hide.
Le Chiffre: [rounds on Bond] But you are SO WRONG! 'Cause even after I slaughtered you and your little girlfriend, your people would still welcome me with open arms... because they need... what I
know.
James Bond: [quietly] The big picture.
[in another room, Vesper screams. Bond and Le Chiffre notice this]
Le Chiffre: Give me the password, and I will at least let her live.
[slaps Bond on the cheek again]
Le Chiffre: Bond, do it soon enough and she might even be in one piece.
[Bond considers this,
then looks at Le Chiffre and laughs. Le Chiffre laughs as well, and realizes that Bond will not give in to the torture]
Le Chiffre: You *really* aren't going to tell me, are you?
James Bond: [laughing] No.
Vesper Lynd: [introducing herself to Bond on the train traveling towards Montenegro] I'm the money.
James Bond: Every penny of it.
M: Who the hell do they think they are? I report to the Prime Minister and even he's smart enough not to ask me what we do. Have you ever seen such a bunch of self-righteous, ass-covering prigs? They don't care what we do; they care what we get photographed doing. And how the hell could Bond be so stupid? I give him 00 status and he celebrates by shooting up an embassy. Is the man
deranged? And where the hell is he? In the old days if an agent did something that embarrassing he'd have a good sense to defect. Christ, I miss the Cold War.
James Bond: [stepping out of the bathroom showing her his dinner jacket] I have a dinner jacket.
Vesper Lynd: There are dinner jackets and dinner jackets; this is the latter. And I need you looking like a man who belongs at that table.
James Bond: [irritated] How?... It's tailored.
Vesper Lynd: I sized you up
the moment we met.
[last lines]
Mr. White: [answering his cellphone] Hello?
James Bond: Mr. White? We need to talk.
Mr. White: Who is this?
[a shot rings out shattering White's leg. He drops to the ground in obvious pain and drags himself toward the house. He is stopped at the steps by the feet of a man in a suit. He looks up to see Bond
with a cell phone in one hand and an assault weapon in the other]
James Bond: The name's Bond. James Bond.