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Dexter

Deb: How can you be so fuckin' relaxed?
Dexter: I'm good at compartmentalization.
Deb: You're a little weird, Dex.
Dexter: That's not gonna change. I'm gonna be this way forever.

Dexter: It's pretty impressive. It seems it wasn't too long ago I was taking care of you.
Deb: I like it better this way.
Dexter: Yeah, I can see that.

Dexter: What happened?
Deb: They think a propane tank exploded.
Dexter: How?
Deb: Do I look like a fucking fire chief?

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: I wondered if maybe you were also cheesed about my whole not-disclosing thing. I don't want you to think I'm unsure or... embarrassed or anything.
Lundy: Why would you be embarrassed? I'm hot!

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.

Deb: Didn't hear you come in last night.
Dexter: Well, it was late. I was quiet.
Deb: Yeah, you're good at quiet. Guess you kind of have to be with me crashing here and Rita's mom over there. You and Rita fuck quiet, too?
Dexter: And she's off, right out of the gate.

Deb: Sweet Mary mother of fuck that's good.
Dexter: I think you might have broken a commandment somewhere in there.

Deb: If Dad taught us one thing, it's the value of human life.
Dexter: (voice over) Yeah, but I think we had different homework assignments.

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