Al Swearengen to Doc Cochran - who has a new case of consumption:
“No one gets out alive, Doc. (Doc has another coughing fit, stands up and grabs his case, leaving. Al watches him for a moment, eyes the samples, then takes a drink and jumps up, grabbing the samples and following Doc.) Jesus Christ! The fucking gimp finds something useful to do in the fucking brace you made her! Do you think you could treat being Johnny—always struggling to fashion a thought?! Every fucking night I, that could cut a throat but sleep the sleep of the just, spend six fucking wakings trying to find a piss pot with my dribble, and wondering when I got to be so old. (He throws fabric swatches down onto Doc.) Pick a fucking swatch for a spit rag, use the others for masks, and go about your fucking business! I ain’t learning a new Doc’s quirks!”