David: Um, Jake, this is my mother.
Jake: Listen, I'm really sorry, I didn't think anybody would be home.
David: Okay, nobody was supposed to be home. Nobody was supposed to be home, so... You were supposed to be at lunch, why- Why are- Why were you not at lunch?!
Moira: David, stop acting like a disgruntled pelican!

Moira: After a glut of unasinous ideas put forth today, the room is suddenly bombilating with anticipation. Can we feel that? It's almost as though we're building towards some sort of inevitable climax.

Ronnie: Roland, the rules say that we can't play if we don't have nine players! And I can't stomach the thought of Patrick's team winning by default. The man looks like a thumb!

Moira: But this is actually a good distraction for you. Because when you're on stage, you're going to have to drown it all out. Okay, so let's now focus on the image you were about to conjure for me.
Stevie: Okay, I'm in the Town Hall. I'm wearing my maroon plaid hoodie. And I'm feeling very uncomfortable.
Moira: Hmm, vivid. Visceral. Excellent, Stevie. Although the exercise does ask us to recall a traumatic event in our life. This sounds almost as if you're describing what's happening right now.
Stevie: Well, I am.
Moira: Oop, there's that razor sharp wit that landed you the role.

Stevie: I didn't audition. I don't like attention. I can't think of anything worse than standing on a stage in front of a room full of people.
Alexis: Okay, Stevie, I think you just need to chill. If this is anything like my first day with the Pussycat Dolls, it'll be a couple of hours of Kegels, and then an afternoon of cheeky Bellinis.
Stevie: It's just a lot of pressure.
Alexis: Don't even worry about it. I got your back today, girl. Just like Nicole Scherzinger did for me.