Eighteenth century beer sucks.


May I have one of your hairs with the root ball attached, please?


Your life gets lived while you are doing other things.


Jane: I hate it when you correct me.
Maura: I hate it when you forget about Mr. Adverb.

I'm not going anywhere. I'm part of a cop family too.


Maura: Males seek mates capable of nursing offspring. Abundant breasts do suggest...
Jane: You know what his abundant belly suggest? Snowball's chance in hell.

Tommy: What do I do with him?
Jane: Use two hands.

Oh my God. I'm going straight to hell. I'm stealing a sippy cup.


Korsak: You can't do this without your bff?
Jane: Not when she's the chief medical examiner, no.

Thank you for playing the annoy the uncaffeinated detective game


Jane: Where am I going?
Maura: To offer moral support in case Cailin wants another one of my organs.

There's a potential biological hazard in the baptismal font.