LEGACY

Transcript:
Fletcher: Legacy- Baranov, let me pour you a drink.
Legacy: Perhaps another time, sir. I must return to my-
Fletcher: -that wasn’t a request. Now sit down and drink.
Legacy: Scotch would not have been my first choice.
Fletcher: Yeah. I suppose you’d have preferred vodka?
Legacy: I’m surprised a man of your standing would resort to stereotypes.
Legacy: Whiskey is my drink of choice. It is a culmination of delicate flavors all working together to create a beautifully complex symphony...
Legacy: Whereas vodka is one flat note farted out through a tin whistle.
Fletcher: I'll tell you what - you help me get the fuck out of Urzikstan - and I’ll buy you heaps of whatever poison you drink.
Legacy: [grunts]
Fletcher: You know, you’ve got no idea what a relief it is to finally have a professional in this bloody operation.
Fletcher: I’m constantly flanked by grunts and yes-men on one side...
Fletcher: And completely sus whack-jobs, like Zakhaev, on the other.
Fletcher: Somehow, every last one of them is completely useless.
Fletcher: But you - you know what it means to command. How to lead troops and gain their loyalty - their respect.
Fletcher: I swear, under anyone else’s watch, they’d all be found dead with their pants down and their thumbs up their arses.
Legacy: That’s quite the mental image - but I get what you’re saying.
Fletcher: Let me - let me pour you another.
Legacy: No. Thank you. Inspection is at twenty hundred hours. Loyalty is earned on the ground floor, so that’s where I need to be.