Rebecca: I can't believe it. Every day, for the rest of my life, I'm gonna be waking up in Robin's bed.
Norm: Ooh, and check out that bed. I swear, you could lay 6 people end to end on that thing.
Sam: If they were cute.
Norm: No, Sammy, look at this. Check it out, man. Look at that canopy, and check out those furnishings.
Rebecca: That's the maid's room.
Norm: I guess that would explain the little old lady in the nightgown. Sorry!

Woody: Miss Howe, what's that room down the hall?
Rebecca: That's Robin's playroom for his executive toys. Don't go in there. You're not allowed to touch anything.
Woody: Oh, OK.
Rebecca: All right, Woody. 5 minutes if you stop pouting.
Woody: Bye.

Norm: [printer squeaks] Well, well, well, what's this, hmm?
Rebecca: Oh, Norm, don't touch that. That's Robin's. It's probably personal.
Norm: You bet it's personal. It's being addressed to "sweet baby."
Rebecca: What? This is from the corporation. I don't get it. Sweet baby is my password to the company computer.
Norm: How come it's coming up on Robin's printer?
Rebecca: I don't know. Look at this. Marketing strategies, advance bond issues, confidential executive memos. This stuff's supposed to be top-secret.
Sam: What do you mean, top-secret?
Norm: She means that it's insider information, Sammy. It's illegal for Robin to have this. As a matter of fact, it's illegal for us to have it.
Sam: Norm, you touched it last.
Norm: No, no, no. Your fingerprints are all over this. Look.
Sam: Yeah, but you set me up. You gave me a Fudgsicle. It's all over it.

Rebecca: [sobbing] I don't believe this. Oh, man.
Robot: Is everybody having a nice day?
Woody: Is this guy great or what? You can make him do darn near anything with this remote.
Rebecca: Can you make him strangle me?
Woody: Well, let's see. I know you can make him punch someone in the groin... Or maybe that was just a fluke.

Frasier: Now, look, I think it's appropriate that we all consider the fact that Rebecca could possibly go to prison for this. Can you imagine our helpless Rebecca in a women's prison?
Sam: Yeah. Come on. Wait a minute. This is serious.
Cliff: What do you think, Sam? What do you think she'll be wearing, huh? Faded cutoff jeans with a work shirt tied just above the belly button? Or a tight uniform that sweats through when she's wrestling the sadistic warden? Huh?
Sam: No, no, look, later, later, you know? At the end of the day when we have a moment to relax. No, what are we talking about here? She's not gonna go to jail. She's gonna turn that rich creep in. I better go see if she needs a ride or something. Hey, Cliff, wet tank top, no bra, tussle in the shower.
Cliff: Hey.
Sam: No, no no. Whoa, whoa. Save it for later.

Rebecca: I just... I can't go through with this, Sam. I just can't do it.
Sam: Hold on. No, you got to, here. You got Robin's papers. All you got to do is go down and hand them over. I don't see what the problem is.
Rebecca: The problem is that I love him, Sam.
Sam: Oh, you're not- You're not thinking rationally here.
Rebecca: Why do you say that?
Sam: You're about to light a tootsie roll.

Sam: Anyway, it's not just between the two of you. There's, you know, shareholders, their families. I mean, thousands of people could be hurt by this. And if you don't do something about it, it's gonna be on your head.
Rebecca: I know. You're right, Sam.
Sam: Yeah. OK.
Rebecca: I'm ready to talk to the board of directors.
Sam: That's my girl. Just don't turn your back on them.
Rebecca: Why, because they're all as treacherous as Robin?
Sam: No. You just sat in a snickers bar.
Rebecca: Darn. That's my favorite.

Sam: Guys, she's going for it.
Frasier: Give 'em hell, Rebecca!
Cliff: Give 'em what for, there, Becky!
Norm: Yeah, we're proud of you.
Carla: Snitch!

Robin: Is Rebecca here, perchance? She was supposed to have moved into my apartment, and not only is she missing, but I seem to be missing some documents that l... need.
Carla: Well, she just left on an errand. I believe it had something to do with nailing someone's rich hide to the wall.
Robin: I see. Do tell her I was here.
Carla: You bet... Sweet baby.

Jim Montgomery: Where's Miss Howe?
Sam: Uh, she went down to plug the meter.
John: Well, that seems very odd.
Sam: Yeah, why is that?
Jim Montgomery: We validate.
Sam: Oh. Oh, well. Here's the elevator. I'll run down and tell her that.