Everything changes. And nothing changes. People die. More are born. And in between, we exist. I never wanted to do more than that. Just exist.
Doing something good it helps with the self-loathing.
All it takes is one word, one suggestion, and they’re no longer in control. All they know is a singular, intense need to follow me, to photograph me, to not get caught. Kilgrave’s spy has no distractions, just an acute focus on me.
A big part of the job is looking for the worst in people. Turns out I excel at that.
Your past always catches up with you. Might as well rip the Band-Aid off now.[to Malcolm]
You want to discuss him? Fine, go to that survivor’s group. But if you want to catch him, give me something I can use.
You make my life choices look good. That’s impressive.[to Erik]
You don’t decide to trust someone. It happens, or it doesn’t, no matter how much you want it to.
You can get anything delivered in New York City. Or anyone. But you gotta be careful what you open your door to. Whatever you let in will eventually get out. Particularly with me around.
We have time to grab a drink? Or three?[to Luke]
This is a safe house? It looks like a ’70s furniture outlet.
There’s no manual that tells you what to do when your mother who has been dead for 17 years comes back and is a mass murderer. I’m kind of winging it.
