Sally: Creek needs to be stopped, but I can't do it alone. You know his compound better than anyone.

Wile: You can count on us. Right, guys?

Sylvester: There is no "us." We're through, Wile. Done. Finito.

Wile: Because of that little tiff back there? Come on, man, that's what we do. You serve, I volley. That's our little dance.

Sylvester: Not this time.

Wile: Taz?

Wile: Lola?

Lola: Sorry, Wile.

Wile (chuckling): Daffy.

Daffy: Hmm.

Wile: Hey. Guys? Guys?

Sylvester: You want to know why I hate birthdays, Wile? Do you? When you grow up a cat, nobody shows up to your party. Birthdays are a constant reminder that out there I'm just a scary, good-for-nothing monster. Yeah. But nothing compares to having the one guy... the one guy I thought I could trust stab me in the back. Come on, guys. Let's get out of here.