You shot her cold.
It's a flesh wound.
But if you don't get me what I need, the last thing you'll see... before I make your children orphans, is the bullet I put between her eyes.
Now, Patrice Saint Clair.
You could've made this less painful... if you had been more concerned about my daughter... and less concerned about your god-damn desk.
Please apologize to your wife for me.
- Can I help you?
- Yes, I'm here to see Mr. Saint Clair.
Your name, please.
I'm sorry, your name is not on the list.
Oh, please check again.
Inside.
May I help you, sir?
- Your champagne.
- Yeah, I will take it.
I have 50,000... 50,000.
50,000.
One hundred, 100,000.
One hundred, 150.
I have 150.
Your champagne, sir.
Two, I have two, 250.
May I serve?
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