You're Machete's girl. I know, because you're his type.
What type is that?
Dead.
You're Machete's girl. I know, because you're his type.
What type is that?
Dead.
Booth's Bodyguard #1: [seeing Machete walking towards Booth's doorsteps carrying a pickaxe and a motor scythe] Hey, hey-heh, boss. Who are you?
The new gardener.
Booth's Bodyguard #1: The gardener.
[speaks Hungarian to Machete] Booth's Bodyguard #1: Just **** with you, chief. It's Hungarian for I going to kill you, you little monkey. You know what, there's a big pile of shit in the back. You can go and clean that up, all right? Make sure you do a good job.
[Machete walks past him silently] Booth's Bodyguard #1: Make sure to wipe those boots off. Carrying shit in the house.
[to his colleague] Booth's Bodyguard #1: You ever noticed how you let a Mexican into your house just because he's got gardening tools? No questions asked, you just let him right in. Could have a chainsaw. You know, a machete...