Roz: Faster, Frasier, faster! You can make this light!
Frasier: God, you're going to get us killed!
Roz: I can't be late for this date!
Frasier: Oh, this is ridiculous! First the dry cleaner, then the ATM, now you're making me cart you off to some restaurant.
Roz: Well, I'm sorry, I didn't plan for my car to be in the shop. But I really, really appreciate it, Frasier. [starts to unbutton her shirt]
Frasier: Oh, a basket of fruit would suffice.
Roz: I am changing for my date. Don't look at me. Turn around. Turn all the way around.
Frasier: I'm driving.
Roz: Fine! [climbs into the backseat] Hand me my jeans, will you?
Frasier: Here. [hands them to her, then checks the rear-view mirror] Oh, oh, great. This is just what I need. There's a police car behind us. Please don't turn on the red light. Don't turn on the red light. Don't turn
on the— [siren]