View high resolution
CLANTON: (drunkenly, as Holliday plays) Is that “Old Dog Trey”? Sounds like “Old Dog Trey.”
HOLLIDAY: Pardon?
CLANTON: (condescendingly) Stephen Foster. “Oh, Susannah.” “Camptown Races.” Stephen stinking Foster.
HOLLIDAY: Ah, yes. Well, this happens to be a nocturne.
CLANTON: A which?
HOLLIDAY: (icily) You know. Frederic fucking Chopin.
(via fuckyeahvalkilmer)