Butterfly Monologue

That next Morning – a unshuffled Tony is seated in a chair, hands tied. Outside CIA agents are guarding the obscure house in the woods of Odense, Denmark.
Inside the room, Tony glances around, completely disorganized, still suffering the effects of too much Gin.
He snarls.
“Where the hell am I at?”
Lucky casually crosses over to him and informs of the bad news.
“Denmark, ole boy.”
“What the hell am I doing here?”
Butterfly informs him with a smile.
Dying -- if you don’t tell us what we want to know.”
Butterfly takes her firearm -- places it to Tony’s head.
Tony puts two and two together.
“Oh, now I know the real reason -- why you whispered all of those nasty things in my ear last night.”
Lucky chimes in.
“Well, actually, Tony -- I told her

“Why always ten? -- Why not twelve or fourteen… Six seconds, that’s long enough.”
Butterfly agrees.
“Airtight, you have three seconds.”
Cold, unmoved, Tony glowers at Butterfly, and in perfect Chinese.
“Cónglái méiyǒu dài nǐ qù wánshuǎ. woo suite de rènwéi nǐ shì yīgè jìnǚ.”
Butterfly laughs, then snapped the taste out of Tony’s mouth.
“I speak Chinese, bitch, you said “Never took you for a ‘spook,’ I sincerely thought you were a whore. -- You must admit, you do look like one.”
Butterfly, then without any warning performs a perfect spinning heel kick to his head that misses by half an inch.
“You know any hookers that can kick like that? Next one will be across your chin.”
Lucky pulls her back, reminds her.
“You have to take that as a compliment. Some people like prostitutes, they’re fun – besides, they’ve been around before Christ. If we kill him -- he can’t tell us where the merchandise is, can he?”
She ponders the thought.
“I suppose not -- but we can kill him after we get the information, right?”
“True, that’s true,” Lucky joked, “Let me handle this.”
A beat later, he pulls up a