Lionel: (to his barback Joe) Rye whiskey. Rocks. Put it on his tab, Joe. Name's Kent. (to Clark) You stroll in here with this crackerjack kid... you trying to land me in the cooler?
Clark: Cool your jets, Mac. Jimmy here's just a little down on luck. Ain't you, Jimmy?
Lionel: Poor sucker. Man, dames are his poison.