Pete: Yep, they still hate us. Why?
Myka: Maybe it's your cologne.
Pete: Well, I'm not wearing any... oh. That's so funny. You're hilarious.
Pete: Why does Artie want us to meet him here?
Myka: I don't know. You know, it was a terrible connection, and all I heard was "barber shop" and "emergency."
Pete: Maybe his eyebrows are finally eating his face.
Claudia: Uhh! How on earth did you get a driver's license?
Artie: Can you drive a stick shift?
Artie: Then take a lesson.
Claudia: Oh, you're a menace!
Artie: Well, in a good way.
Dr. Kelly Hernandez: Who's your supervisor? I want a name.
Pete: Oh, I'm sorry. Here, let me spell it out for you. U-N-C-L-E S-A...
Myka: "Uncle Sam." He's patriotic and he can spell. Isn't he cute?
Myka: Were you hit?
Pete: No. But I think my underwear are shot.
Pete: What happened?
Claudia: A gladiator just kicked your ass.
Pete: Oh, good. For a second there, I thought a gladiator just kicked my ass.
Artie: Somehow light and matte coalesced and a 3-d projected Sherman Tank became solid enough to shell the crowd.
Myka: How is that even possible?
Pete: You're still asking that question?
Myka: I'm still hoping for an answer.
Artie: Now, focus on something benign. Not me! I haven't been benign since 1956.