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Nikita

Fletcher: Divison. Just Division?
Nikita: Pretentious, I know.

Owen: Nikita, you can't trust him.
Nikita: We're 30,000 feet above the ground with nothing to look down to. We have to trust someone.

Nikita: My rules. Remember? Say it.
Owen: Your rules.

Fletcher: Who are you?
Nikita: Nikita, you hung up on me. I told you this would happen.

Michael, you think you have nothing to live for. You have me.

Nikita: I'm the better shot.
Michael: I knew you'd gone rogue, I didn't know you'd gone delusional.

Nikita: I'm done. I can't have another one.
Akmadoff: Oh nonsense. Where I come from they call this mothers milk.
Nikita: I'd hate to meet your mother.

Nikita: I'm not going to hurt you.
Michael: Really? Because my shoulder still a little sore from when you shot me.

Michael: What the hell are you doing here?
Nikita: Thanks, my flight was lovely. How bout yours? That taxi driver ripped me off.

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