Myka: Hey, partner. How are you feeling?
Pete: Sore. Everywhere. Need cookies.

Pete: Hey, that sounds like cannonfire.
Claudia: Brilliant! There's that college education rearing its ugly head.

Myka: Having intel in the field keeps an agent alive, Pete. But Artie acts like keeping us alive is not a priority. To him we're just...
Pete: Redshirts?
Myka: Yeah.
Pete: Okay. First, he doesn't think we're redshirts. And second, that's so cool you knew what I meant.

Myka: Is there anything you don't play with?
Pete: Umm... no.

Pete: You play at the B&B all the time.
Claudia: Where no one can here me. Especially you, quit eavesdropping on me.

Myka: What's he in for?
Pete: He killed his wife. A lot.

Myka (In Pete's body): Pete get your hand off my boob.
Pete (In Myka's body): How did you know that?

Claudia: Okay, looks like the problem is in the gooery.
Pete: What's a gooery?
Myka: I'm guessing it's Claudia-speak for the neutralizer processor center.
Claudia: Uh-huh.
Pete: Right, of course.
Myka: Well, it's chapter 197 in the manual.
Pete: It's a thousand pages long. I'll wait for the movie.

Come on Myka, look if I had quit and left you there and you were looking at an artifact for football or porn I would help you.

Pete: Where did you learn to handle a sword like that?
Myka: Some girls play with Barbies, and some take fencing lessons.

Myka: Do you know every former warehouse agent we know is either crazy, evil, or dead?
Pete: Or all three.

Pete: [pats Artie on the butt as he throws the football] Good game.
Artie: Thank you.