Renard: Must be important then.
Thomas Woolsey: Afraid so, sir. And I’m afraid you’ll have to drive.
Renard: Better than having to die, I suppose.
Thomas Woolsey: Just between us, sir, I wouldn’t rule that out.
Renard: I was doing just fine ‘til I had a gun pressed to my neck by a man I’ve known nearly 20 years.
Thomas Woolsey: It’s nothing personal sir.
Renard: I know, Woolsey, but I’m taking it that way.
Thomas Woolsey: No hard feelings, sir. Your privilege.
Wu: Gentlemen... and you two as well. (Nick and Hank stare) Waits for laugh. Doesn’t get it.
Adalind Schade: You’re lucky I didn’t rip your throat out.
Catherine Schade: As if you could have.
Catherine Schade: You still love him, don’t you?
Adalind Schade: What difference does that make?
Catherine Schade: I taught you well.
Adalind Schade: All I know is this is gonna get ugly.
Catherine Schade: Don’t worry. You do ugly so well.
Rosalee Calvert: It’s got to be a potion of some kind. How else would a human fall in love with a hexenbiest? They’re not exactly the lovable type.
Eddie: Kinda hot, though. I mean, if you go for that obviously hot thing, because I don’t.
Nick: Adalind. I think it’s time we settle our differences... violently.