Rosa: Hiring him to play his own party is straight-up brilliant.
Amy: Yep, because everything he does is a prank on himself.
Rosa: Wow, you're an evil genius. Next time I want to hurt someone, I'm coming straight to you.
Amy: Aw, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

Amy: Sir, I'm sure you had your reasons for going to Peralta, but this is exactly the type of job I would love to have.
Captain Holt: Okay, the next time someone threatens to kill me, I'll come straight to you.
Amy: Thank you, sir. I can't wait. I didn't mean- Let's catch this bastard.

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.

Jake: And our second option is surveillance footage of Detective Amy Santiago soliciting drugs using perfect grammar.
Amy: It's not that weird to say, "may I have some cocaine?"
Jake: It is.

Jake: Wait a minute, I think I just figured something out. I got to go.
Gina: Aren't you forgetting something?
*Jake gives Gina a kiss on the forehead*
Gina: Uh no, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

Captain Holt: Let's not overlook the fact that he turned his crime scenes into tea parties for dollies.
Gina: Which suggests pre-adolescent trauma leading to a pattern of criminality that probably began as a juvenile. I'm taking an abnormal psych class, and everyone in it is obsessed with me.

Madeline Wuntch: Oh, there it is. The shriveled husk of Raymond Holt.
Captain Holt: Look, Gina, is that a talking raisin?
Madeline Wuntch: Enough foreplay.