Amy: Tell 'em how good it was, Rosa. Tell 'em how high our morale is.
Rosa: High.
Amy: Oh, stop gushing, girl.

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: The point is, Captain Holt solved the case when no one else could.
Captain Holt: He's actually been stealing from these archives for years. You've been asleep at the wheel, Allister. You're an embarrassment.
Dean Wesley Allister: Really? Well, at least I've never confused St. Augustine with Boethius.
Kevin: Oh, who gives a rat's ass about Boethius, Wesley?
Captain Holt: What are you doing, Kevin?
Kevin: I am creating a kerfuffle.
Jake: Oh, damn.
Kevin: Sure, my husband is a hot piece of ass, but he is so much more than just that. Raymond Holt is as smart as anyone in this department, but he chooses to use his intelligence to make our city a better place. One day, I hope to live up to the standard you set. You make me want to have a wetter brain.
Captain Holt: Oh, Kevin.
Jake: Y'all are hella specific.

Captain Holt: So nice of you to stop by, Kevin. Enjoy your day. I hope it's productive.
Kevin: Thank you, Raymond. I hope your day is productive as well. [Holt and Kevin shake hands] PDA in the office? My, my.
Captain Holt: Couldn't help myself.
Kevin: Oh, may I please use the precinct facilities before I head to work?
Captain Holt: Yes. Thank you for asking for permission.
Kevin: Thank you for granting it.

Jake: I'm here! I'm here, I'm here. You can start the meeting now.
Captain Holt: The meeting is over. You're late. You missed roll call and the tutorial on using the new copiers. Six years, and no matter how hard I try, I still can't get you to understand the importance of being punctual.
Jake: Maybe you should just give up and accept me for who I am?
Captain Holt: No, I will break you. Right now.
Jake: Oh.
Captain Holt: While you were out being tardy, I was hard at work devising a special punishment. I've crafted an intricate personal high five with everyone in this office except you.
Jake: What? But you hate high fives.
Captain Holt: Yes, every minute of it was hell. But it'll be worse for you. Squad, dismissed. Good-bye, Diaz.
Jake: Salute into a fanny waggle?
Captain Holt: Good-bye, Boyle.
Jake: Oh, the snake charmer!
Captain Holt: Good-bye, Jeffords.
Jake: That's a butt bump.
Captain Holt: Good-bye, Santiago.
Jake: Double fist bump reverse explosion into a Pete Townshend strum. [sighs] All right, that was terrible, but it's over now, and I made it through.
Captain Holt: Good-bye, Leonard from Xerox.
Jake: What? No, no, no. The copy guy?