Pete: This must be a joke.
Mrs. Frederic: Do I look like a joke?

Look, Myka, why don't you pull your head out of your magenta and feel the room. Something's off.

Frederic: My name's Frederic.
Pete: Frederic what?
Frederic: Mrs. Frederic.
Pete: Well, that's a relief.

Pete: What's that?
Frederic: An invitation to endless wonder.
Pete: Okay, could you sound a little more creepy?

Artie: Come on. Come on inside. I'll show you around.
Myka: Around what? What am I doing here?
Artie: I'll explain everything inside. Come on. I made cookies.
Pete: Ooh.

Pete: So, okay, who are these guys?
Artie: Former colleagues.
Pete: And.. and where are they now?
Artie: Well, um, this one and this one are dead. This one, a mental institution in Germany. And this last one disappeared. One day I'll find him.

Belski: Then you get exiled off the reservation into my town, humping my leg.
Pete: It's a nice leg.

Belski: Banks just hand over the money. Everyone's shy on the details.
Pete: Which is strange.
Belski: Tell me something I don't know.
Pete: Uh, Mary, Queen of Scots' croquet mallet was made from a petrified narwhal's horn. She never lost a match.

Myka: What has Agent Belski done for you lately?
Pete: Um... she sashays.
Myka: Yeah.
Pete: A little bit.
Myka: No.
Pete: She doesn't even know it.
Myka: Oh, yes, she does. She does.

Belski: How does someone get invited to your party?
Pete: Oh, well... you don't get invited. You get shoved.

Myka: There's three suspects, including Fissel. One was a woman.
Pete: You sure?
Myka: Yeah, I... felt her.
Pete: You touched her boobies?

Unbunch your panties and make the best of a bad situation.