You know, Jill, you remind me of my mother. She was the biggest whore in Alameda and the finest woman that ever lived. Whoever my father was, for an hour or for a month - he must have been a happy man.
Do you just play or can you shoot too?
He not only plays. He can shoot too.
Jill: Hey, you're sort of a handsome man!
Cheyenne: But I'm not the right man. And neither is he.