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Royal-pains

Like Mr. Kliner. He was our biggest donor. He had plenty of money to throw a retirement party for a ballerina, but not enough to honor his pledge to the free clinic. And for the record, free clinics, they're not free. Big misnomer. They're expensive. Only you can't call them that or nobody would come.

Jill

Hank: (pulling out Tucker's sutures) Huh. The surgeon did nice work.
Tucker: He was under a lot of pressure.
Divya: Why? Was your father standing over him?
Libby: No. I was.
Tucker: Imagine being Mozart's piano tuner but then more stressful than that.

Hank: You wanna grab a bite to eat?
Jill: I only have 30 minutes 'til my next meeting.
Hank: We'll take big bites.

Hank: Well, I'm ready to leave.
Divya: We just got here.
Evan: You know what? I'm actually with Hank on this one. The average age here is dead.

Hank: Who is that guy Jill's talking to?
Evan: Not you.

Hank: Relax, I wasn't making a move.
Evan: 'Making a move?' You actually just said that?
Hank: I've been out of the game.
Evan: For how long, since the sinking of the Lusitania?

Hank: Look, if you like her [Tess], then ask her out.
Evan: Did she tell you to tell me that?
Hank: Yes, by my locker, before homeroom.

(to Hank) You're younger than I imagined. Most concierge doctors around here are on their third wives and last legs.

Marshall Bryant

Jill: Guess you can be both.
Hank: Both?
Jill: Concierge doctor to the rich, and an on-call doctor to the rest of us. Robin Hood of medicine.
Hank: As long as no tights are involved.

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