Captain Holt: I still have reservations about this plan. Perhaps you could say your dealer ran out or he's summering in Nantucket.

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: 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.

Jake: We have a few more questions for you, doctor.
Captain Holt: Doctor. Huh. It's funny when people call dentists "doctor".
Philip Davidson: We are doctors. We do four years of medical school.
Captain Holt: Yeah, but it's called "dental school".
Philip Davidson: But we learn about the entire body.
Captain Holt: But if you had cancer, you wouldn't call a dentist.
Philip Davidson: You know it's actually harder to get into dental school than medical school.
Captain Holt: Well, because there are fewer dental schools. Because most people want to become actual doctors.
Philip Davidson: That's ridiculous. It's not like we're college professors calling ourselves "doctors".
Captain Holt: Not the same thing, my friend.
Philip Davidson: Well, sure it is. When someone has a heart attack on a plane, do they yell out, "Yo, does anybody here have an Art History PhD?"
Captain Holt: A PhD is a doctorate. It's literally describing a doctor.
Jake: Maybe let's refocus.
Captain Holt: No! The problem here is that medical practitioners have co-opted the word "doctor".
Jake: Okay, Captain-
Captain Holt: I know we live in a world where anything can mean anything, and nobody even cares about etymolo-
[cut to outside, Holt downing a glass of water]
Captain Holt: Apparently that's a trigger for me.
Jake: Yeah, apparently.

Jake: Well, listen, we need your help.
Adrian Pimento: Great, who are we killing? I won't do kids. That's a rule. But that rule is negotiable if the kid's a dick.
Rosa: No, babe, we don't want you to kill anyone.
Adrian Pimento:What? Really?
Rosa: No.

Charles: Sarge, you think Gina will be okay?
Sergeant Jeffords: She says the doctor's can't be sure, but they're optimistic. Apparently, she has something called Ansel-Elgort Syndrome.
Charles: Oh, poor Gina.
Amy: Oh, my God.
Hitchcock: Oh, you fools. That's not a disease. Ansel Elgort's an actor. Did none of you see "The Fault in Our Stars"?
Sergeant Jeffords: No. Why did you?
Hitchcock: Teenage romance, dying chick, oxygen mask. Checks all my boxes.

Adrian Pimento: Okay, here are the ground rules: You can punch me, kick me, pull my hair, I am a-ok being stabbed, biting and scratching are on the table, you can use fire.
Jake: These are the ground rules? Is there anything off limits?
Adrian Pimento: Damn, man. You got something really sick you wanna do, huh? Oh, you little pervert. All right, I like it. Don't tell me. Surprise me. Ooh, this is gonna be fun.