Charlotte/Cheryl: You're not planning to blindfold me and hide me in a bomb shelter with limited oxygen and send my family cryptic notes about how to find me in a race against time for my life?
Mother/Malory: Who are you, collective pseudonym Carolyn Keene?
Mother/Malory: Who would go through all that trouble?
Charlotte/Cheryl: Johann Schmidt, a.k.a The Red Skull in my Nazi kidnap/rape fantasy.
Malory: You don't want to drive all the way out there, only to hear him say, "On second thought, to make this happen, we're going to need a finger."
Archer: Nobody has ever said, "To make this happen, you're going to need a finger."
Malory: Oh, you'd be surprised!
Archer: [shudders] Ugh.
Archer: Well, so, um, well, you're the, um singer here.
Lana: Wow, and you must be an old gypsy woman.
Archer: Close, I'm a private investigator. I'm doing some work for your boss.
Lana: And apparently doing it with a fresh new take on the word, "private."
Malory: Hmmm. Bronze Star with two Oak Leaves and V Device, Legion of Merit, Croix de Guerre with Palm, Silver Star with two Oak Leaves, Distinguished Service Cross with one Oak Leaf and V Device, three Purple Hearts. It goes on, Mr. Archer.
Archer: Yeah, senior year I was voted "Class Flirt."
Malory: And yet you turned down a battlefield commission to 2nd Lieutenant.
Archer: Well, after "Class Flirt," I mean...
Malory: Omaha Beach by way of North Africa and Sicily. And after Normandy, through France and Belgium all the way to Berlin.
Archer: Well I had to get to Berlin, I sent all my clean shirts ahead.
Malory: Mmhmm. Speak any German?
Archer: You know, "Don't shoot," "I surrender," "Hitler's the tops," stuff like that.
Hawley: She seems like a normal baby weight.
Malory: Yes, and everyone deserves a trophy just for showing up, and everyone's Kickstarter has merit. Ugh.
Now who wants an widdle ice chip! No? I suppose you'd prefer a nice big bottle of that liquid butter fat.
Mallory: You do realize this is a CIA agency?
If I wanted to hear you people scream, I'd have you flown to a CIA black site in Morocco and listen to your torture session on speakerphone!
Slater: Everyone else, these are your dossiers. Read them on the way to Tunt Manor.
Cheryl: Tunt Manor! That's my house!
Slater: I know! (mimicking Cheryl's high voice) And because you know the property, you'll be posing as the listing agent.
Cheryl: Ahhhh! (squealing and clapping)
Mallory: Shut up!
Slater: Just Slater, it's a mononym like...
Malory: Jesus Christ!
Lana Kane, you have known me for a long, long time. When have I ever been honest with Sterling?