Jake: What else? Oh, you're never gonna believe this. I've been reading.
Amy: Reading? Like, books by real authors?
Jake: I don't know, is Philip Roth a real author?
Amy: Oh, my goodness! I wish you had gone to prison years ago. I'm kidding. Obviously, I'm not more attracted to you now than before.

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.

Captain Holt: This facility is a violent place filled with hardened criminals We need to send someone who can blend in.
Amy: Sir, I would be honored to take on this challenging assignment. [laughter] Why is everyone laughing? I can be a badass.
Gina: You're raising your hand right now.
Amy: We're in a meeting!

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.

Sergeant Jeffords: Boyle! Were you dreaming about Jake again?
Charles: Why did you wake me up?! I told you never to wake me up!

Sergeant Jeffords: Oh, also, she's worried about her motorcycle sitting idle, so she wants us to take it out once a day. Here.
Captain Holt: I think you should do this. You're more the biker type. I've seen you use a toothpick in public.
Sergeant Jeffords: Motorcycles are death machines. I have three kids. I'm not risking it.
Captain Holt: Are you saying my life matters less because I don't conform to society's heteronormative, child-centric ideals?
Sergeant Jeffords: Are you really playing the gay card right now?
Captain Holt: Yas, queen. *tosses keys, snaps fingers*

Sergeant Jeffords: Just eating butter like a popsicle, huh, Boyle?
Charles: Yeah, I know, I'm spoiling myself, but I'm depressed. Or have you forgotten that Jake, my best friend, is in prison?
Scully: Wait, Jake's in prison?
Sergeant Jeffords: Yeah! He and Rosa were framed for a bunch of bank robberies by Lieutenant Hawkins.
Scully: Oh, right. And where's Gina?
Sergeant Jeffords: On maternity leave! We were all at her baby shower last week.
Hitchcock: Okay. And why am I bleeding?
Sergeant Jeffords: I don't know, Hitchcock.
Hitchcock: Oh, so you don't have all the answers. I'm bleeding because my piece-of-crap son-in-law bit me.