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[after Joubert unexpectedly kills someone
] Joe Turner
: Why? Joubert
: I don't interest myself in "why". I think more often in terms of "when", sometimes "where"; always "how much".
: Would you move from the window, please? Janice
: I won't scream. Joubert
: I know.
: Condor is an amateur. He's lost, unpredictable, perhaps even sentimental. He could fool a professional. Not deliberately, but precisely because he is lost, doesn't know what to do. Unlike Wicks, who has always been entirely predictable.
: Well, the fact is, what I do is not a bad occupation. Someone is always willing to pay. Joe Turner
: I would find it... tiring. Joubert
: Oh, no - it's quite restful. It's almost peaceful. No need to believe in either side, or any side. There is no cause. There's only yourself. The belief is in your own precision.
: I'd like to go back to New York. Joubert
: You have not much future there. It will happen this way. You may be walking. Maybe the first sunny day of the spring. And a car will slow beside you, and a door will open, and someone you know, maybe even trust, will get out of the car. And he will smile, a becoming smile. But he will leave open the door of the car and offer to give you a lift.
: [offering Turner a gun
] For that day.