Cole Hauser: William J. Johns

Pitch Black

William J. Johns

Johns: How's it look?
Riddick: Looks clear.
[Johns steps forward, and a creature flies out towards them. They duck and it flies into the night]
Johns: You said it was clear!
Riddick: I said it *looked* clear.
Johns: Well, how does it look now?
Riddick: Looks clear.

Carolyn Fry: How much do you weigh, Johns?
William J. Johns: What's it matter, Carolyn?
Carolyn Fry: How much?
William J. Johns: Around 79 kilos, to be exact.
Carolyn Fry: 'Cause you're 79 kilos of gutless white meat, and that's why you can't think of a better plan.

Fry: You're not a cop, are you?
Johns: Never said I was.
Fry: No, you didn't. You never said you were a hype, either.
Johns: You have a little caffeine in the morning; I have a little morphine. So what?
Fry: [looking at shotgun shells with morphine in them, sees all have two vials inside the shell] Here, you got two mornings everyday. Wow, you're just born lucky.

Riddick: I know you don't prep your emergency ship unless there's a fuckin' emergency.
Jack: He's fuckin' right.
Johns: Hey, watch your mouth.

Johns: [Fry is looking for Zeke's body based on Riddick's claim that he had nothing to do with his demise] Let me tell you what I think happened. I think he went off on the guy and buried him in the hill somewhere, and now he's got you believing there's something else out there.
Fry: Well, let's just be sure.
Johns: Murders aside, Riddick belongs in the asshole hall of fame. He loves to jaw-jack and he loves to make you feel afraid because that's all he has, and you're playing right into it.
Fry: I don't know why I'm trying to explain this to you, Johns. You're a cop. For God's sake, we couldn't find his body.
Johns: Look, being ballsy with your life doesn't change what came before. It's just stupid.
Fry: What? You think I'm trying to prove something?
Johns: Well, are you?

Fry: [the plan to go for the escape vehicle has turned into a debacle] Can we just go back to the ship?
Johns: I don't know, Carolyn. Nice breeze; wide-open space. I'm startin' to enjoy my fucking self out here.
Fry: What? Are you high again? Just listen to yourself, Johns.
Johns: No, no. You're right, Carolyn. What's to be afraid of? My life's just a steaming pile of meaningless shit anyhow. So I say mush on. The canyon's only a couple of hundred meters, and after that it's skiff city, so why don't you butch up, stuff a cork in this fucking kid, and let's go.

William J. Johns: Why don't you just shut up and let me figure out a plan that doesn't involve mass suicide!
[neither Johns nor Fry says anything for a minute]
Fry: I'm waiting.