Nothing's perfect. And Mayfield fucking bites. It married me to a fucking Nazi, and you wanna talk about it being perfect? Bullshit. Maybe it was cool once, a long time ago, but Johnny-boy went fucking crazy and now he's just fucking with everybody. Just like he fucked with your head, and your memories.

[She takes the flower from her pocket and holds it out to her.] Pretty flower for a pretty girl?