Chas: Are you okay?
Royal: Fuck do you care?

Chas: I've had a rough year, dad.
Royal: I know you have, Chassie.

Richie: I wrote a suicide note.
Chas: You did?
Richie: Yeah, right after I regained consciousness.

Eli: Did I hit the dog?
Chas: Yeah.
Eli: Is he dead?
Chas: Yeah.
Eli: I need help.

Etheline Tenenbaum: Chas? What's going on?
Chas: We got locked out of our apartment.
Etheline Tenenbaum: Well, did you call a locksmith?
Chas: Uh huh.
Etheline Tenenbaum: Well, I don't understand. Did you pack your bags BEFORE you got locked out?

Chas: Looks like you and Dad are back together again, huh.
Richie: He's your dad too, Chas.
Chas: No, he's not.
Richie: Yes, he is.
Chas: You really hate me, don't you?
Richie: No. I don't. I love you.
Chas: Well, I don't know what you think you're gonna get out of this, but believe me, whatever it is, it's not worth it.
Richie: Chas. I don't want to hurt you. I know what you and the boys have been through. You're my brother and I love you.
Chas: Stop saying that!

Henry Sherman: Call me Henry.
Chas: I prefer Mr. Sherman.
Ethel: Call him Henry.
Chas: Why? I don't know him that well.
Ethel: You've known him for ten years.

Richie: I think he's very lonely. Lonelier than he lets on. Maybe lonelier than he even realizes.
Ethel: Have you spoken to him about this?
Richie: Briefly. And he agreed that...
Chas: I'm sorry, maybe I'm a little confused here. What are you suggesting?
Richie: That he come here and stay in my room.
Chas: Are you out of your mind?
Richie: No. I'm not. Anyway I think he'd be much more comfortable here than at...
Chas: Who gives a shit?
Richie: I do.
Chas: You poor sucker. You poor, washed up papa's boy.

Uzi Tenenbaum: Who's your father?
Chas: His name is Royal Tenenbaum.
Ari: You told us he was already dead.
Chas: Yeah, well now he's really dying.

Ethel: What are you talking about?
Chas: The apartment. I have to get some new sprinklers and a back-up security system installed.
Ethel: But there are no sprinklers here either.
Chas: We might have to do something about that too.

Four minutes, forty-eight seconds. We're all dead. Burned to a crisp.

Royal: Chas, let me finish here. I've got six weeks to set things right with you and I aim to do it. Will you give me a chance?
Chas: No?
Royal: Do you speak for everyone?
Chas: I speak for myself.

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