Villanelle Transcripts: Killing Eve S3E7

Helene: Villanelle.

Villanelle: Finally. That guy was really staring at me.

Helene: This is Rhian.

Villanelle: Nice collection.

Helene: What are you doing?

Villanelle: Working out how I'd kill you.

Helene: I thought killing wasn't really your thing at the moment.

Villanelle: You want to test that theory?

Helene: You're only as good as your last. Go on, tell me. How would you do it?

Villanelle: I don't know, yet. But it would definitely involve the tiny chair.

Helene: Sit down. Not on that one. Show me. Your injury.

Villanelle: Here.

Helene: Do you know why I love you, Villanelle? Because you're an agent of chaos. And I love chaos. Chaos disrupts. It rips apart and starts again. It's like a forest fire. It burns. It clears. It's monstrous, but it's beautiful. You're a beautiful monster, Villanelle.

Villanelle: A monster?

Helene: Monstrous people like you often feel like they have to fly solo. Like they have to keep things bottled up inside them. Thoughts. Feelings. Secrets. And that can affect their ability to be truly monstrous. Do you have anything you would like to get off your chest, Villanelle? Has something happened recently?

Villanelle: I did something bad to my mother.

Helene: Whatever it is, you can tell me. I don't want us to keep secrets from each other.

Villanelle: I took a shit in her shoe when I was three. A really big one.

Villanelle: Give me another job.

Helene: You're injured.

Villanelle: I'll take Dasha.

Helene: Okay. But success is essential. Otherwise, what's the point of sending you and not Rhian?

Villanelle: Thank you for the inappropriate touching. It was actually pretty nice.

Helene: You wouldn't be able to, by the way.

Villanelle: Wouldn't be able to what?

Helene: Kill me before I killed you. You're a child. You have no idea what you're dealing with.

Villanelle: God, you're sexy.

Dasha: You look ridiculous.

Villanelle: It's my family tartan.

Dasha: We agreed German. Germans don't wear kilts.

Villanelle: Yeah. I changed my mind.

Woman: So, here we are. You ladies celebrating something?

Villanelle: Yes.

Dasha: No.

Villanelle: My promotion.

Dasha: We are here on business.

Villanelle: My mother has a funny sense of humour. It's dementia. Come on, Mother. Hurry up.

Dasha: You think you've won, because you've got your stinking promotion?

Villanelle: I was trying to be modest, but if you're going to force my hand...

Dasha: You have not won. I have won. I have done everything they asked me to do. Ever since they first dumped you on me. When you had little mosquito bites for breasts. And now I get to go home.

Villanelle: You know what's waiting for you at home?

Dasha: Vodka. Proper Russian Vodka.

Villanelle: Indifference. Do you think anyone in Russia cares about a bendy KGB crone? Russia has vegans now. Did you know that? You go into a restaurant, you ask for stroganoff, they're going to laugh in your face.

Dasha: So what?

Villanelle: So what?

Dasha: So what? I'm not interested in hero's welcome.

Villanelle: No?

Dasha: And if I want stroganoff, my son can make it for me. Ha! You didn't know I had a son? Or maybe I forgot to mention him? I'm going to die with my feet up and my hand held. Whereas you, you have destroyed any home you've ever had. And you're going to die alone.

Villanelle: Does your son have your halitosis?

Dasha: Well, you are funny. I'll give you that.

Villanelle: No, seriously. Can I have his number? It's such an intoxicating scent.

Dasha: I am going to miss this.

Villanelle: Looking like a prophylactic that can't play golf?

Dasha: Killing people. That feeling you get the moment before you snuff out a life. When you can see your own eyes reflected in dilated pupils. When you can count the number of breaths they have left on one hand.

Man: Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!

Villanelle: He's crying out to be killed.

Dasha: Ugh. I killed so many Americans in Cold War. You can make giant, greasy tapestry out of them. They were less fat then, but just so loud.

Villanelle: You can do it if you like.

Dasha: Kill him?

Villanelle: One of us has to do it. If it means so much to you, you can do it, hmm? Look at it as my retirement present.

Dasha: You have lost it, haven't you?

Villanelle: What?

Dasha: Yeah, you have lost it. You want me to kill him because you are afraid you won't be able to do it again. Oh, boy. This is priceless. I tell you one thing. I'm glad that they agreed to send me home before they realised they had promoted a dud.

Villanelle: Get out of my way, please.

Villanelle: Oops.

Dasha: Hey. They're coming.

Villanelle: Hey. Hey!

Dasha: Hi.

Villanelle: Hey! Excuse me. Sir. Will you help me get my ball? My mother's feeling unsteady on her feet, and we don't want to go into the woods alone.

Villanelle: Deal's off. I'm doing this one.

Man: You know, some girls would stop themselves asking for help from a man these days. They do it as a matter of principle.

Villanelle: Uff! Not me. I was brought up in a family where men were men, and women were women, and women liked their men to be men.

Dasha: Aye, that's how we did it.

Man: Damn right. And that's why I don't have a problem promoting women to my board. Because your lack of know-how gives me an excuse to feel heroic. I'm only joking. That's... What do you say in this country? "Don't get your knickers in a twist."

Villanelle: No, no, no. You got it in one. I can't tell you the amount of times I've gone to hit the ball and hit something else entirely. It's just in here somewhere.

Man: Okay.

Villanelle: Huh. Oh, I think I see it. It's just in that patch of ferns over there.

Man: Allow me.

Villanelle: Oh! Isn't this wonderful, Mum? The kind gentleman's getting the ball for us.

Man: It's playing hard to get.

Dasha: Do they not have belts in America?

Villanelle: Ugh. Three... Two... One.

Man: Here you go. Oh, God! Oh, my God.

Villanelle: Stuff that in your fanny pack and eat it!

Man: Oh, my God!

Villanelle: What are you waiting for? Run!

Villanelle: Oh, shit!

Villanelle: What took you so long? You were supposed to be here hours ago.

Konstantin: I don't want to talk about it.

Villanelle: Where are we going?

Konstantin: To get my money.

Konstantin: The FSB wants to kill me. The Twelve want to kill me. Carolyn's daughter wants to kill me. My ex-wife wants to kill me. My daughter wants to kill me. My ex-wife's new boyfriend would want to kill me if he wasn't already dead.

Man: Look where you're going, idiot.

Konstantin: That random guy now wants to kill me.

Villanelle: I thought you didn't want to talk about it.

Konstantin: I don't.

Villanelle: Well, I'm hearing a lot of something that sounds like talking (IMITATING SOBBING) for someone who doesn't want to talk about it.

Konstantin: I think I'm just really, really tired.

Villanelle: Ugh. Up your magnesium.

Konstantin: Maybe I shouldn't go.

Villanelle: Are you serious?

Konstantin: Maybe I should just let them kill me.

Villanelle: Wow! Bring the mood down, why don't you?

Konstantin: What I'm going to do in Cuba, anyway? I burn like that.

Villanelle: Well, read books on the beach. Smoke cigars. Get your legs out. Don't get murdered.

Konstantin: Wherever I go, someone wants to murder me. I can run as far as I want, they will still come. Ha! I probably deserve it.

Villanelle: You definitely deserve it. This way you can get murdered in a cute Havana shirt.

Konstantin: Let's face it, Villanelle, I'm a prick. And the only thing I am waiting for is another prick to... Another prick to... Shit!

Villanelle: Another prick to shit? What is that? Are you faking it? Get up! Get up. No! No, you can't die on me now. How do we get the money? Where's the money?

Konstantin: I don't want to die.

Villanelle: I'll come back for you. I promise. But I need the money.

Konstantin: My pocket. I don't want to die.

Villanelle: Shut up. I don't want you to die either. I really don't. But you actually might.

Eve: Hello?

Villanelle: We have to stop running into each other like that. It's not good for both of us.