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Dexter

Lundy: What exactly is Sergeant Doakes' problem with you, Morgan?
Dexter: (voice over) I kill people, for one.

(to Rita) I feel... such regret, which is rare for me.

Dexter

Doakes: Jesus Christ, Morgan. Jesus fuckin' Christ. You're the Bay Harbor Butcher.
Dexter: I really hate that name.
Doakes: Jesus Christ, man.
Dexter: You said that.

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!

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