Robby: Do you think Cece and Pavun will make it?
Schmidt: I don't know. Really can't say. What I can say is that one arranged marriage did take place today. The marriage of Schmidt and Robby.
Robby: [laughs] Hell, yeah.
Schmidt: I only dread the day that we defeat all the Indians, and must face each other in a duel to the death.
Robby: Yeah. Buzz kill.
Schmidt: We're like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Except only one of us dies at the end of the movie. It's gonna be you. You're the one that's gonna die.
Robby: You want another beer?
Schmidt: Sure do, compadre.

Schmidt: What do you think about this? We get a three-person canoe, okay? Then we got to her house and we rap on the door. She answers the door, she sees the three-person canoe. She realizes there's only two of us, and we say, "Ah, what a conundrum. Please join us."
Robby: How about this one? We get some night-vision goggles. All right, that's all I got. I don't... I don't know what else.
Schmidt: I mean, I would say Trojan horse, but...
Robby: In this economy?
Schmidt: I mean, we could always go on a hunger strike.
Robby: We enlist in the Navy, we quickly rise through the ranks, and then we can take her to the Naval Officer's Ball.
Schmidt: Feel like we're right there!

Schmidt: This is what I'm thinking. I use my superior powers of manipulation and persuasion to get Cece to take you back. Once we've neutralized the sub-continental threat, I smite you.
Robby: What?
Schmidt: What?
Robby: You said you're gonna smite me?
Schmidt: Smite ... defeat gloriously for Cece's hand.
Robby: No, I know what it means.
Schmidt: But that's someday. For now, let's scheme, my "broheem."
Robby: Okay... I just want to reiterate that I'm not on board with the smiting.
Schmidt: Whatever.
Robby: But I like the "broheem" thing a lot.
Schmidt: Let's concentrate on the broheem part. And smite later. Yeah, okay, yeah.
Robby: Cheers, broheem.