Jake: Can't sleep either, huh? This cow screaming is so loud.
Captain Holt: So loud.
Jake: Is it a pleasure sound or pain? Maybe they're into both?
Captain Holt: I hear they're into leather.
Jake: Was that a joke?
Captain Holt: Gallows humor. Being in this bovine brothel is truly a nightmare.

Rosa: All you have to do is say a few nice comments during the memorial.
Captain Holt: As God said when Wuntch tried to sneak past the gates into heaven, "It ain't happening, honey."
Rosa: [cackles]

Amy: Captain, how are you feeling?
Captain Holt: Better today. I even managed to eat some plain toast this morning.
Amy: Smart. Something bland.
Captain Holt: That's my favorite breakfast.

Amy: Maybe we should talk about deets for the case. Plan our next move. Grab some chow.
Captain Holt: No need. I brought these. Nutrition bricks. I have original no flavor, and whole wheat no flavor.

Charles: Okay, we can't get out until Monday afternoon, at the earliest.
Jake: I tried everything. I begged. I pleaded. I even told them that Scully was a Make-a-Wish kid with a rare disease that makes him look like a giant old baby.
Rosa: Did you call it Scullyosis?
Jake: Damn it, Rosa, that's really good and completely useless to me now.

Charles: Hey, Rosa, are you ready to go streaking?
Rosa: What?
Charles: That's what my dad and I called getting blonde streaks in your hair. We used to do it to our ponytails on road trips. You just take a little lemon up top, and let the sun do the rest. We called it giving each other road head.
Rosa: You just said you called it going streaking.
Charles: It had a couple names.

Jake: You might wanna stand back for this, sir. It can get pretty intense.
Amy: [YELLING] All right, you mooks, our union health plan has 100% reimbursement for out-of-state ambulance rides. Scully will fake a medical emergency.
Scully: Don't need to fake it. Always having at least one.
Amy: Great. You call an ambulance and have it take us here to Monroe, Louisiana. The ambulance can drive 25 miles over the posted speed limit, so we'll get there by 9:00 p.m. There's a small airport there, mostly servicing crop dusters. Of course, they can't take passengers, but thanks to a loophole in H.R. 377551, police officers are allowed to commandeer any plane in the interest of national security. The crop duster will land at an airstrip outside of Finksburg, Maryland. We'll take a cab to Baltimore, jump on the 6:48 a.m. train to New York, arriving at 9:26. Kevin will meet us at Penn Station with a fresh Captain's uniform. From there, it's a 29-minute cab ride to One Police Plaza. You change on the way, and we should get to your meeting with five minutes to spare. Stop clapping, you idiots! We gotta move, move, move!
Jake: I love her.