Malcolm: Thought it over.
Mr. Herkabe: What happened to your lip?
Malcolm: Reese.
Mr. Herkabe: He's a troubled young man. God knows I've tried my best with him, but you can't let that fact poison...
Malcolm: Relax, I'm gonna do it.
Mr. Herkabe: You will?
Malcolm: Reese can't help who he is. And you can't help being a jerk. I'm the only one who has a choice over what I do. So, yeah, I'll take your sick little deal so you can keep your pathetic, meaningless plaque.
Mr. Herkabe: Thank you, Malcolm. I know that you think that this compromised victory will taste like ashes in my mouth, but there's something I learned a long time ago. Ashes don't taste that bad.