Rosa: Charles, it is not like you to have sex with a stranger.
Charles: Really? Tell that to me in an hour, when we've had sex twenty-three times!

I'm not the chief of detectives, I'm not The Vulture's boss, I'm just some guy in PR. I can't save your ass. I don't work here anymore, and the sooner you accept that, the better.


Somebody give me a puka shell necklace. I'm going full douche.


Terry: Anyone seen Captain Holt? He seemed a little down earlier.
Gina: Yeah, he let me choose the music on the way over here, which leads me to believe that he's given up on life.

I've been asked to deliver a toast here after the funeral. A message of hope. This is what I have so far. "PAIN." That's it.


And now, a message of hope. Everything is garbage. You find something you care about, and it's taken from you. Your colleagues, your dream job, your mango yoghurt. Never love anything. That's the lesson.


Jake: He is the worst captain we've ever had! He drew boobies on my bulletproof vest!
Rosa: He stared at me for 90 seconds while he ate an entire peach.
Amy: He heard that I speak Spanish and he made me fire his housekeeper. She was Polish.
Charles: At least he doesn't practice his crane kicks with you.

Amy: Jake and I were talking last night...
Charles: Pillow-talk alert! Spooning or face-to-face?

Jake: So what, you bugged the briefing room?
Vulture: No, Scully butt-dialled me the other day and he still hasn't hung up.

Wuntch: Hello Raymond. You're looking old and sickly.
Holt: So nice of you to greet us, Madeline. I thought surely you'd be crushed under that house in Munchkin land.
Wuntch: Sticks and stones, Raymond.
Holt: Describing your breakfast?

Amy: How do we keep it light and breezy...I know. A comprehensive set of rules.
Jake: How am I attracted to you? Doesn't matter. I am. Go.

Rosa: I don't need to be monitored all day long, I'm not a toddler. This is stupid.
Terry: I know you're not a toddler, because my toddlers would know that "stupid" is a no-no word.