B: I hate your guts
D: Why? Do I remind you of yourself?
B: Nah… you murdering sonofabitch. I only scare them, break their legs, and occasionally cause a cardiac arrest –frighten them to death– while you continue to cross the line.
D: Which line, your line?
I never cross my line. Harry’s code helps me to …
B: Henry’s fucking code. You working on my nerves, damned. It never takes more than 20 seconds before you bring up Henry’s code. Its a damned lame excuse for your nocturnal cutting-a-psychopath tours.
D: And how are those different from your nocturnal scaring-a-psychopath tour?
D: and his name is Harry, not Henry, you fuckface
B: You sound like your sister now
D: According to the code I should kill you
B: And I should make you relive your worst nightmare a dozen times… That kind of terror worked with others.
D: Not with me, not with me, thanks to Harry.
B: Fuck Harry.
D: Fuck you, Bruce
B: Not today Dexter, sleep well.
D: sleep well, sweet dreams