He has had enough money off us already.
It's like the scene from Breaking Bad with Todd convincing his uncle Jack not to quit the meth game while they still had gallons of methylamene. Just Jagielka is Todd and Uncle Jack is Marco Silva, and Jags wants to stay and bleed the club dry, while Marco wants rid.
Jags:
Wait, Uncle Marco, hold up. I think we should keep me around for a while, get a couple of months under my belt before we introduce Yerry and Kurt.
Silva:
You seriously giving me this turn-the-other-cheek crap? The fans have sussed you out. Personally.
Jags:
I've still got one year left on my contract at 80 grand a week.
Marco:
Contract? Who gives a s*** about a contract? You won the lottery here! You've got all the money in the world. You're talking to me about sticking around?
Jags:
I mean, this is millions, Marco. No matter how much I got, how do you turn your back on more?
[Marco stares at Jags knowingly.]
Marco:
You little… son of a bitch. It's that
Michael Keane fella! [putting his arm on Jags's shoulder] You're sweet on him, you little barsteward! [to Dunc] Hey, Dunc. You believe this?