Clarence 'Clay' Morrow: Nobody threatens Sam Crow... brown, black, or *white*. Now why don't you all pile back into your clown car, and head on back to Nazi-town.
[Weston finds Darby in his shop]
Ernest Darby: Talked over your offer with my guys.
AJ Weston: Talked over? It's a no-brainer.
Ernest Darby: I'm a little fuzzy about your end in this. Now what exactly goes into the League's pockets?
AJ Weston: You think this is about money for us? You got kids, Darby?
Ernest Darby: No.
AJ Weston: I just pulled my six-year-old outta tee-ball 'cause I found out they were giving trophies to every boy on every team for simply playing the game. Trophies should be earned. Teaching children that everyone's equal is a dangerous philosophy.
[he turns and looks at Darby's Latino employees]
AJ Weston: But maybe you've lost sight of that.
Ernest Darby: Business is down thirty percent. I can't afford the white guys.
AJ Weston: Never put money before race.
[he hands Darby a stuffed envelope]
AJ Weston: This is five thousand. It should get you operational inside Charming.
Ernest Darby: When Clay finds out that I'm dealin' crank and pussy in his backyard?
AJ Weston: There's a phone number inside the envelope. Call it and tell our Aryan brothers how much manpower you need.
[he points at the swastika tattoo on Darby's chest]
AJ Weston: And if I were you, I'd button your shirt.
Ernest Darby: I got nothin' to hide.
AJ Weston: It's not about hiding. You haven't earned it.