Keith: How's it going?
Eli: I've got a little bit of a headache, actually.
Keith: Well, shouldn't guys with aneurysms generally try to avoid headaches?
Eli: Only guys with brain aneurysms.
Keith: Yeah, you have a brain aneurysm.
Eli: That's a good point.
Maggie: It's a race to Sonoma.
Matt: Worst reality show ever.
Taylor: In other words, if you don't get in this car in the next 30 seconds, I will leave you in the dust.
Matt: She means it, too. Do not underestimate the fury of a woman denied a romantic getaway with me.
Maggie: Hey! Sorry I'm late.
Eli: And the band's back together.
Eli: Wish I had one.
Matt: Officer, I'm an attorney.
Taylor: So am I.
Maggie: Me, too.
Desk Sergeant: You know what? I just lost interest. Someone want to put Jesse Bates in the visitor's room before I shoot a whole gaggle of lawyers?
Matt: Admit it, Eli, I am undefeated in Rock, Paper, Scissors. You'd think with a name like Stone you'd play rock more often.
Ellen Wethersby: That's a lovely dress, Patti.
Patti: Thank you, Ellen. You look particularly well-preserved tonight.
Patti: Ellen, you could have given him a heads-up?
Ellen Wethersby: Oh, I know I could have.
Patti: We have a long list of nicknames in the office for you. So sorry to see you earning every one of them.
Eli: Yeah. You remember what I sang.
Maggie: Some George Michael song.
Eli: Oh, yeah.
Maggie: Yeah, I'm fairly certain that's why he didn't tour America for five years.
Matt: I've actually had this fantasy--you, me, prison. But there were more hot, captive women and maybe a steamy group shower.
Taylor: Yeah. Exactly the romantic getaway I've been dreaming of, too.
Patti: What a load of crap!
Jordan: No need to be bashful, Patti. Please, speak your mind.