Francisco Scaramanga
Ah, Miss Goodnight.
James!
James Bond
Aren't we a little overdressed, Goodnight?
Scaramanga
I like a girl in a bikini. No concealed weapons. [shows Goodnight to her chair] Miss Goodnight, please. Mr. Bond. [Bond sits next to her as Nick Nack places a tray on the table] Now, let's see what Nick Nack has for us. [he lifts the tray's lid] Ahh- mushrooms. [As he sits down across from Bond, Goodnight takes a hasty look at the mushrooms and glances meaningfully at Bond.])
The fried mushroom looks terribly interesting.
Bond
Yes, I noticed that- I'll get around to it later. [Scaramanga subtly places several pieces of his Golden Gun on the table as Nick Nack pours wine] Having fun in the sun, Goodnight?
Yes- I could stay here forever. [Scaramanga watches them]
Bond
Mmm, excellent- slightly reminiscent of a '34 Mouton.
Scaramanga
Then I must add it to my cellar. [writes it down]
Bond
You live well, Scaramanga.
Scaramanga
At a million dollars a contract, I can afford to, Mr. Bond. You work for peanuts, a hearty well done from Her Majesty the Queen, and a pittance of a pension. Apart from that, we are the same. [raises his glass in a toast] To us, Mr. Bond. We are the best. [he and Goodnight drink, but Bond does not]
Bond
There's a useful four letter word... and you're full of it. [Scaramanga sets down his wine, his expression cold] When I kill, it is on the specific orders of my government. And those I kill are themselves killers.
Scaramanga
Ha! [takes the various pieces of the Golden Gun and moves them into his lap, out of sight] Come, come, Mr. Bond, you disappoint me. You get as much fulfillment out of killing as I do, so why don't you admit it?
Bond
I admit killing you would be a pleasure.
Scaramanga
Then you should have done that when you first saw me. But then, of course, the English don't consider it sporting to kill in cold blood, do they?
Bond
Don't count on that. [reaches for his gun, but Scaramanga raises his Golden Gun, which he has surreptitiously put together.]
Scaramanga
... I could have shot you down when you landed, but that would have been ridiculously easy. [Bond slowly moves his hand away from his pistol] You see, Mr. Bond, like all great artists I want to create one indisputable masterpiece. The death of 007 -mano a mano, face to face- will be mine.
Bond
You mean, stuffed and displayed over your rocky mantelpiece?
Scaramanga
It's an amusing idea, but I was thinking more in terms of history. A duel between titans... my golden gun against your Walther PPK. Each of us a 50-50 chance.
Bond
Six bullets to your one?
Scaramanga
I only need one.
Bond
...Sounds a bit old-fashioned, doesn't it? Pistols and dawn, that sort of thing?
Scaramanga
Indeed it is, Mr Bond. But it still remains the only true test, for gentlemen.
Bond
I doubt you'll qualify on that score. However, I accept. As soon as I finish this delicious lunch Nick Nack has prepared for us.
