Captain Holt: Detective Peralta, can I speak to you in my childhood bedroom?
Jake: Oh, my God, yes. Wait, this isn't your bedroom.
Captain Holt: No, it's a regular room.
Jake: You tricked me.
Captain Holt: That's right. My childhood bedroom is for good detectives who aren't embarrassing themselves.
Jake: It is?
Captain Holt: I know you're having fun, but enough is enough with the prying personal questions.

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.

Captain Holt: You're annoying my mother.
Jake: Are you blind? We're vibing like crazy.
Captain Holt: I assure you, my mother's not a vibrator.
Jake: Definitely not what that's short for.

Jake: The alarm company said the break-in happened around 7:30. Most people are home at that time. Is there anyone who knew you'd be out?
Laverne Holt: The people who were with me at wine club. Oh my, I just remembered, Carol Spitzheim's house was broken into several months ago, also during wine club.
Captain Holt: Interesting. The odds of that happening coincidentally are vanishingly small.
Laverne Holt: I would say infinitesimally.
Jake: Yes, and I would say teenily-weenily. We all know words.

Captain Holt: Enough! He robbed my mother.
Jake: No, he didn't. He's her lover. He's your mother's lover. He's lovering your mother.