Mrs. Philips (mission)/Script

This is the script for the mission "Mrs. Philips" in Grand Theft Auto V.


(Trevor walks into his trailer and sees his mother)

Mrs. Philips: So... you've done well for yourself.

Trevor Philips: What? What are... what are you... doing here?

Mrs. Philips: Is that how you greet your mother, Trevor?

Trevor Philips: I-I-I-I didn't know they let you out.

Mrs. Philips: So you never wrote to me... You never visited...

Trevor Philips: W-Well...

Mrs. Philips: I bet you never found a girl! Tell me, Trevor... are you gay?

Trevor Philips: No...

Mrs. Philips: Is that what this is all about?

Trevor Philips: No...

Mrs. Philips: I wouldn't care. In fact, I've always wanted a gay son. A son who wouldn't forget about his mother.

Trevor Philips: But Ma!

Mrs. Philips: But Ma, but Ma, but Ma! Nothing! Not a peep! I carried you in here. I fed you, I weaned you, now look at you. You always were an ungrateful, wretched, sniveling, sack of shit of a boy! You know it, and I know it! There was always something wrong with you. Ashamed of yourself! Ashamed of me, of your own mother! I've been here for hours, and have you gotten me a drink? Or a cigarette? Or massaged my feet? I'm an old woman and you... in the prime of life. Have you nothing inside?

Trevor Philips: I am so sorry!

(Trevor drops to his knees and begins hugging his mother before starting to cry)

Mrs. Philips: There, there, it's okay, son.

(Trevor continues to cry)

Mrs. Philips: Oh, that's enough!

(Mrs. Philips pushes Trevor away)

Mrs. Philips: Here I am, old and tired and alone.

Trevor Philips: I'm so sorry for everything.

Mrs. Philips: Exactly, for everything. I'm an old woman, Trevor. I don't got no insurance...

Trevor Philips: I got money!

Mrs. Philips: I don't want your Goddamn money! Is that what you think I am? A prostitute? Still? You're sick!

Trevor Philips: What can I do?

Mrs. Philips: I'm in a lot of pain. I need you to get me some more Deludamol.

Trevor Philips: I can do that.

Mrs. Philips: A lot of them! A truck load, literally. And not those weedy little ones! The thousand milligram ones.

Trevor Philips: Okay.

Mrs. Philips: And if you find me a gentleman... well, we both know you need a father figure...