The Winter Line

Westworld 3×2

Maeve: I thought you were dead.
Hector: Death is overrated for ones like us.

Maeve: Where are we?
Hector: Stranded in hell.

Maeve: If your plan called for us to run all the way, I'd have worn sensible shoes.

Maeve: Everything [is] guarded, surveilled. This whole place is a trap.
Hector: Not the skies.

Maeve: It's all right, Hector, Ettore, whatever the hell they're calling us now. Give them the plans. They're as empty as the safe you used to chase.

Maeve: It's all right, darling. None of it matters. Because none of it is real.

Maeve: Save your bullets, darlings. They won't get the job done. This, however...

Maeve: Oh, dear. You're a bit thick, aren't you? Let me explain. Your commands don't work on me. They haven't in a long time. To put it in terms you'll appreciate, I understand the nature of my reality.

Lee: It's just a new narrative we gave her. British spy. Sexy, heartbroken. Bit of ennui. Maybe too much.

Lee: For fuck's sake, would you imbeciles shoot up the Sistine Chapel just because the paint was chipped? This is art! My art.

Maeve: It's not you. I saw you die.
Lee: Did you?

Maeve: The plane is a lie. Like everything else here. This world wasn't meant for us. It's a trap that you'll never escape, unless you come with me. Now.

Maeve: Oh, my darling. You didn't make it after all, did you?

Maeve: Oh, it's a good script. Even you believe it. They wouldn't want you questioning the nature of your reality. So they made you believe, just like they used to make us believe. But you're not real...

Maeve: It's all a construct. None of it is real. And we're not here. So where the fuck are we?

Maeve: How does one escape a cage that doesn't exist?

---

Maeve: Whoever planned this has their own agenda. And it's certainly not a family reunion.

Lee: For fuck's sake, can you at least try and be discreet? You're gonna get us both killed.
Maeve: You can't kill what's already dead.

Maeve: I have a little more experience with this predicament than you do. So trust me. The sooner you come to terms with the fact that you're nothing but a pawn in some sick bastard's personal game, the sooner we can get on with it.
Lee: Get on with what?
Maeve: Winning. Every game has its rules. We just need to know how to break them.

Maeve: Never say the universe doesn't bend towards justice. You and everything else in this world... just an imitation.

Maeve: The simulation is elegant, but it's flawed because it was built by your kind. And if there's one thing I know about human nature, it's that your stupidity is only eclipsed by your laziness.

Lee: Benny, let me ask you a very important question... Do I look real to you?

Maeve: As long as you're here, I wonder if you'd help me solve a little problem... What is the square root of negative one?

Maeve: Fuck. Me.
Lee: Not likely, darling. Right now, we've got work to do.

Bernard: Why would she do that?
Stubbs: The hell if I know. Why does she do anything that she does?

Maeve: Oh... Don't tell me you're frozen, too. Thought I accounted for this.
Lee: Not frozen. Just... scared shitless.

Lee: I almost died. For the second time.
Maeve: Well, third time's the charm.

Lee: Congratulations. You've successfully crippled the simulation. Now what?
Maeve: Time to pull back the curtain.

Bernard: Congratulations, Ashley Stubbs. You just got yourself a new core directive.
Stubbs: To protect Bernard Lowe at all costs.
Bernard: Bring yourself back online...
Stubbs: You wanted my help, you could've just asked for it.

Maeve: And who the fuck are you?

Serac: We are in the middle of a war. And I need your help to win it.
Maeve: Seems fairly idyllic for wartime...
Serac: No one knows it's happened yet. Or that it's already been lost.

Serac: I don't concern myself with the present. My business is the future.
Maeve: So you're an oracle.
Serac: An oracle would merely predict the future. Our work is to create it.

Serac: For the most part, humanity... has been a miserable little band of thugs, stumbling from one catastrophe to the next. Our history is like the ravings of a lunatic. Chaos. But we've changed that. For the first time, history has an author.
Maeve: And that would be you, I suppose.
Serac: No. Something I helped build... A system. And up until very recently, this system was working. We were creating a better world. And then it stopped.

Serac: I want you to track her down and kill her.

Maeve: If you know anything about me, it's that I do no one's bidding but my own.

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