James: Let's face it, Christian, not every man can appreciate the experience of a perfectly aged single malt. Smoky scent, sweet and salty taste.
Christian: Where do you get the balls to come on to me?
James: It's inevitable, you and I. The same refined taste, in Scotch and in women. Don't you believe in fate?
Christian: Only in Greek tragedy.
James: I believe in critical mass. Tipping points, tiny straws that can break camel's backs. You've been trying to show me who's boss for some time, haven't you? Well, now's your chance.

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