Rosa: Listen, Denise, I felt personally attacked when you included sesame bagels at the bagel brunch knowing full well I'm allergic. I developed a rash.
Captain Holt: Says you, Ainsley. I believe food allergies are a hoax. Perhaps your rash is from all that makeup you wear. This is an office, not some downtown dancery.
Brad Portenburg: Okay, great. Now, in this roleplay, who can tell me what went wrong?
Amy: Denise should have made reasonable accommodations given Ainsley's medical issue. Ainsley unnecessarily heightened the conflict by assuming that Denise had a personal vendetta, and Denise shouldn't have responded to Ainsley's complaint with an ad hominem attack.
Sergeant Jeffords: My thoughts exactly.
Captain Holt: I concur.
Rosa: Yep.

Brad Portenburg: Actually, I have good news. State law requires that this seminar be no less than six hours, so I guess we'll spend the next two hours diving into specific conflicts about this workplace and solving them.
Amy: But we beat you. We beat you with study.

Rosa: How's this for a mouth noise? You suck.
Sergeant Jeffords: No, you suck!
Captain Holt: As do you, as do you and you!
Amy: Oh, yeah? Well, you're all a bunch of flopes.
Captain Holt: Flopes?
Sergeant Jeffords: This is the flope right here.

Sergeant Jeffords: Hey, Santiago, it's time to head out.
Amy: Actually, I'm not leaving. I'm gonna stay for the games.
Jake: Ohh, look who's coming around already. We're gonna have fun.
Amy: No, this isn't fun. A voluntary administration workshop is fun.
Sergeant Jeffords: I hear it ends with a six page self-assessment.
Amy: Oh, come on, Terry! You don't have to rub it in!

Jake: All right, fine. I can do this. For my wife. Ah, it didn't work. My skeleton feels like it's made of Skittles. I can't do it, Amy.
Amy: Yes, you can, okay? You just need a little energy. And Debbie's EpiPens are full of adrenaline.
Jake: Is that a smart thing to do?
Amy: Probably not, but sometimes it's good to be a little irresponsible.
Jake: You're gonna make me sick.
Amy: It's better than losing our car.
Jake: I mean, is it, cos? [Amy jabs Jake with an Epi-Pen] ... I will never die!

Amy: Hey, did you get my sexy calendar invite?
Jake: You mean the one titled "8:00 pm coitus"?
Amy: Yes, and the one titled 7:55 foreplay. You didn't accept either invite. Oh. I can start foreplay later.
Jake: No, no, no. I love foreplay, as you know.

Amy: So, Lieutenant, sorry to take up your time. I just wanted to go over the CompStat numbers.
[Amy opens the folder and finds a Post-It note which reads "Welcome to the Jake way"]
Amy: Um, what the--
Sergeant Jeffords: Is something wrong? Are the CompStat numbers bad?
[Amy turns the page and finds another Post-It note which reads "Tell Terry the numbers are fine & you have to go"]
Amy: The numbers are fine and I have to go.
Sergeant Jeffords: Oh, okay, then why'd you ask for this meeting?
Amy: Don't follow me.
Sergeant Jeffords: What? I wasn't going to! This was a very confusing interaction!

Amy: All right, focus up. This is our pregnancy war room. On the master calendar, we will track ovulation windows, menstruation cycles, and every uterine deposit.
Jake: "Uterine deposit"? Is that what we're calling sex? It seems a little clinical.
Amy: Well, you could always shorten it to U.D. Or "ud."
Jake: Yeah, I don't want to do that.

Amy: Where were you? You're 19 minutes late. My temperature is shot to hell!
Jake: I know. I'm Sorry. I got detained by the transit cops because my baggy pants fell off on the subway.
Amy: Let's just ud and get it over with.

Amy: You awake?
Jake: Nope. You?
Amy: No. Let's do this.
Jake: Okay. Shirts on?
Amy: Definitely.

Amy: [slurred] I also have a toast to make. Hitchcock, I always thought I was better than you, because I haven't been divorced seven times and I've never been banned from a museum for kissing the statues. But today I realize that maybe my life would be better if I was more like you. Anyway, I gotta go make a baby of my own just like the baby inside of Anna.
[scattered gasps]
Jake: [high fives Amy] Nailed it.
Amy: Thank you.

Amy: Okay, bud. Are you ready to have some stupid Hitchcock-style sex?
Jake: Oh, yeah, where are we going?
Amy: Nowhere. We're going right here in Shaw's bathroom.
Jake: Oh, that's such a bad idea. I love it. All right.
Man: [o.s.] Occupied!
Jake: Someone's in there. Should we wait?
Amy: Would Hitchcock wait?
Jake: Hell no. Hitchcock would find an alley!
[outside:]
Amy: Well, this is perfect. There's probably so many skunks skunking around here.
Jake: Oh, yeah. We're gonna make a skunk baby.
Amy: Yeah.
Larry Britches: Hello.
Amy: Huh?
Larry Britches: Don't worry about me. I don't want to join. I'm happy just to watch.

Amy: Jake, stop. Why is it so easy for everyone else to get pregnant? I mean, look at these stupid guinea pigs. They made 600 babies, and we can't make one? Why can't we make 600 babies?
Jake: You can't compare yourself to guinea pigs, babe. You taught me that.

Amy: I don't know what I want to do.
Jake: Fine. That's okay too. We don't have to have a plan. We make the rules. Maybe it would help to just not think about the whole thing for a while and see where we're at.
Amy: Yeah, okay. I love you.
Jake: I love you. [Jake and Amy kiss. They then move in for a second, longer kiss]
Amy: Should we go?
Jake: Yes.
Amy: Okay.
[later, Amy holds a pregnancy test:]
Amy: Nope.
Jake: [sighs]

Jake: Wait a minute, you believe me, right?
Amy: Of course I do. I'm your wife. I'm on your side no matter what.
Jake: [sighs] Thanks. Same, by the way.
Amy: Thanks. I mean, no one really suspects me.
Jake: Right.