Hank: We were just trying to come up with a contingency plan in case we have to call the whole thing off.
Evan: What do you mean, call it off? You can't call it off. Milos is a monster, Henry. He tried to kill Marisa when she was pregnant. He tried to kill Boris. He succeeded in killing...
Boris: I assure you, Evan, one way or another, Milos will answer for his sins.
Evan: There is a murderer in our powder room.
Hank: Calm down. We'll figure it out.
Paige: So if Wade asks, which he will, can I give him your number?
Divya: What are you talking about?
Paige: He was totally flirting with you.
Milos: I'm Milos Kuester-Ratenicz.
Paige: Oh, Kuester-Ratenicz. You're related to Boris?
Milos: Yeah, he was my cousin.
Paige: Milos, why don't you have dinner with Evan and me tonight? In fact, you should stay at Shadow Pond. There's plenty of room.
Evan: Well, you know what, actually...
Milos: No, no, I would be delighted.
Divya: Our new patient Bea was admitted
for a severe allergic reaction to penicillin.
Hank: Why was she prescribed penicillin?
Divya: She wasn't. Her husband Bert was. He was giving it to her.
Hank: Why was he giving it to her?
Divya: He wasn't giving it to her. He was... he was giving it to her.
Hank: Oh. Okay. All right, Bert.
Boris: My grandfather built this entire house himself, all 109,000 square feet of it. Even I don't know all of its secrets.
Hank: Boris, Milos was never supposed to get this close. You're putting innocent people at risk, people I care about.
Hank: (to Boris about Milos) The genetic disease can affect bones and muscles, but the third element is... dementia. Milos wasn't trying to leave because he's suspicious. He was leaving because he's delusional.
Bea: Don't put so much pressure on yourself. Life is long and wonderful. It ebbs and flows like the perennials in my garden. Sometimes they're in bloom, sometimes they're not, but they're always alive.
Divya: So I'm going through a dormant period.
Milos: We are blood, Boris. Share the cure.
Boris: Mila... cousin... There is no cure. The cure is a fairy tale, like the Count of St. Germain. You tried to kill me, to kill my family, you murdered Dima for something that never existed. It does not exist.
Milos: You're a liar.
Boris: It's over, Hank. Hopefully, this is the end of generations of violence in my family.
Hank: And a new beginning for you.
Boris: We shall see.