Dick: What's the matter with you?
Don: I'm always good cop. This was my one chance to be bad cop.
Dick: But I'm a bad good cop.
Don: You're not even a cop!
Dick: Well, can't we both be bad cop?
Don: But the whole concept is-- Oh, whatever. [both return to the interrogation room]
Dick: Now I want answers!
Don: And I really want answers!

Judith: Thank you for inviting me to your conference. How do I look?
Nina: [chuckles] You look fine.
Judith: I love Bolivian men. They're like Hondurans without all the attitude.

Dick: Well, so much for good cop, good cop.
Don: There's no such thing! I told you, there's only one permutation that works.
Dick: Okay. I have this idea. Sad cop, somewhat effeminate cop.
Don: Get out! Go home, Dick. You are not cop material.

Chet: Of course, my dad didn't say anything. He never did.
Harry: And how did that make you feel, Chet?
Chet: Angry. Worthless.
Harry: Oh. But you know that's not true, now, don't you, Chet?
Chet: Yeah. Yeah, I do.
Harry: All right! [sighs] Well, [ding] Happy hour's over, Chet. But I think we made some real progress.
Chet: I feel better.
Harry: Yeah. And just remember don't stop drinking.

Harry: So, Dic, now that you're feeling better about your career again, do I have to keep working at the bar?
Dick: Oh, no, Harry.
Harry: Oh, good. There's just too much pressure.
Tommy: All those people and their problems.
Harry: No, there's too much pressure in the soda gun. You could put an eye out. Why do you think they call him one-eyed Jimmy?
Sally: Wait. He lost his eye from soda?
Harry: Yeah, root beer.
Dick: No wonder he's angry.
Harry: I would be.