Dutch:
[Angrily shoving Doyle back into the motel room]
Listen, you little son of a bitch, you could've killed somebody with a stunt like that! That poor bastard was on his way home to see his family and because you wanted to play some kind of spoiled brat prank, you put his life in jeopardy. Now, what gives you the right to do that, huh? Doyle:
I guess I didn't think about that. Dutch:
[Shoves Doyle into the bathroom]
Well, you better start thinking of a little something else, besides your own spoiled ass! I took on this idiotic assignment because I love your mother. I gotta wonder how nuts I am! Boy, I met some scum in my life, but you beat all, man. You are absolutely worthless. You know something? This isn't a joke, anymore. This is a full-blown mission. You're not gonna beat me. I've had my head split open, my nose mashed. I've been kicked and beat and left for dead and when I set you down on your mama's doorstep, you're gonna be one, whipped little puppy. Doyle:
[Gets himself ready to fight Dutch]
Don't flatter yourself. Dutch:
Get your hands down. Doyle:
I'm not taking anymore of your crap! You touch me once more, you'll be sorry! Dutch:
You're saying you want to go? You want to go? Hell, I'd love to go! You want to go? Doyle:
Yeah. Dutch:
Okay, go ahead. Let's see if your punch is as big as your mouth. Only this time, no sissy kicks, no kamakize tricks, no sucker punches. Just good all-American street fighting. Now, let me show you how to do it, curl your little digits and balls up, so you don't hurt your little thumbies. All right, come on, give it to me, pipsqueak! Doyle:
[Doyle gives Dutch a right cross across the face and goes down, knocked out, with his butt raised up. Doyle looks down at his fist in horror and locks himself in the bathroom]