-You got a cigarette?
-You’re old enough to smoke?
-I’m old enough to do anything. I know my rights, fuzz. And I got a right to not even talk to you. You’re wasting your time and my beauty sleep. ‘Cause I ain’t telling you nothing. Not a thing about nothing. Now how about that cigarette, and let me get back to that fleabag they call a cell.
I’m old enough to do anything.
