Rosa: Sarge, Captain. Oh, you guys brought Hitchcock.
Captain Holt: Uh, no, we just bumped into him in the lobby. We don't know why he's here.
Hitchcock: Jenny, baby! I love what prison's doing to your figure.

Hitchcock: I have a similar question about browser histories.
Captain Holt: Just throw your computer away.
Hitchcock: Roger that.

Sergeant Jeffords: Guys!
Amy: Right. What we're trying to say is that we lost sight of what this was all really about: building morale.
Rosa: So we bought two-ply toilet paper for the whole squad.
Scully: I call shotgun!
Hitchcock: Shotgun!

Captain Holt: And so concludes this year's Secret Santa drawing. Just a quick reminder of the rules: $40 limit, no perishable items, and no homemade massage coupons, Hitchcock.
Hitchcock: Fine, then everyone'll have to pay full price for them.

Amy: Hitchcock, Scully, how did you get things done before the internet and faxing?
Hitchcock: Cocaine?
Scully: Right. And also the tubes. There's 27 miles of pneumatic tubes under the city, connecting all the precincts.

Jake: Oh, Hitchcock, thank God!
Hitchcock: Handcuffed yourself to a car? Been there.

Amy: I don't understand those things. Is walking really so hard for you?
Jake: Oh, Ames, walking's a nightmare.
Hitchcock: Yeah, Amy.

Hitchcock: This says we have three questions.
Captain Holt: No.
Gina: Uh-oh.
Hitchcock: How do we get outta here?
Radio: Can't tell you.
Hitchcock: Really?
Radio: Yes.
Captain Holt: That's enough! Sorry about that. Can we please have our questions back?
Radio: No. And that's three. You're done.
Hitchcock: Oh, Captain, how could you?

Rosa: What the hell are you guys doing out here?
Scully: Finally eating breakfast. We snuck the microwave out here so we could cook our burritos like real policemen.
Hitchcock: Now they have to use the toaster oven. Enjoy your 16-minute cook times, idiots.

Jake: So look, a big, important drug case came across my desk, and I need your help. Only problem is, Sarge doesn't think you can handle it.
Hitchcock: He's right.

Hitchcock: Hey, chair! Get ready to meet your new best friend: my ass.

Scully: I still don't get it.
Hitchcock: Nobody does. They're just pretending.

Hitchcock: I got it. No! My ass. It left the chair.
Scully: I'm sorry, man.
Hitchcock: No. It was my time.

Amy: Hitchcock? What was that sound?
Hitchcock: I just got an alert from my hookup app. I'm about to boink with a local single in my area.

Hitchcock: Ooh, are you guys building a nap nest? Mind if we burrow?
Amy: No!