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Dexter

Masuka: He's got daddy's eyes.
Batista:... and your penis size.

Christine: I don't know who my father is.
Angel: He is the Trinity Killer, and he's been sending you postcards from Hell!

We're looking for a potentially old white guy... in Miami?

Angel: Let's get a search team here. Maybe it can find some more body parts.
Dexter: A head would be nice!

Laguerta: You hate sitting behind a desk.
Angel: But I love being with you.

Angel: I'm having intimate relations with Laguerta.
Dexter: Congratultions?

Deb: What's going on in there?
LaGuerta: You tell us.
Deb: Why would I know?
Angel: Come on. You're Lundy's pet.
Deb: Fuck you.
Chico: Seriously, what's Lundy got, or is he just blowing smoke?
Deb: Seriously, I don't know. But if he's got something, it ain't smoke. Lundy's too good to blow smoke.
Angel: Man, no wonder you're his pet.
Deb: Fuck you twice.

Deb: The Bay Harbor Butcher is one of our own.
Lundy: We keep this to ourselves for now. Just the three of us.
Angel: Well, I'm gonna go tell it to a bottle of scotch.

Masuka: How come you got a hug and I get a pat on the nose?
Angel: Cause you're like a retarded puppy.

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