"Have you ever fallen in love, Agent?"
"Inpecteur. Inspecteur Delacour of the Direction Centrale de la Police Judicaire."
"Spicey. You possess flavour, Miss Inspector."
"Is this a game to you?"
"Yes. No. Maybe? What is life if not a game? It has a starting line and at some point, a finish line. Anything in-between is fair game."
"Fifteen people are dead. All within five miles of your home."
"What can I say? Bad luck? The world is a dangerous place. Perhaps they were at the wrong time at the wrong place."
"You make me sick, Mr Potter."
"So hurtful, Inspector. So full of hate. Why? Why not instead tell me about your first love?"
Slap
"Hm, you have a firm hand. I recognize a form in your swing. Perhaps you love to hurt."
"Never. I'd never hurt those I love."
"How can you be so sure? We are all the same. Fighting to stay alive, to find ways to survive this game. And clearly, someone is hurting others to stay to achieve that. You would hurt me for those you love."
"That's not the same. You are vile. You don't know anything of love, of loving someone."
"Ow, Inspector. How can you say that when you can tell that my eyes only hold my inner most sacred love for you."