— You don't have a girlfriend, then?
— Girlfriend? No, not really my area.
— Mm. Oh, right. Do you have a boyfriend?
— ...
— Which is fine, by the way.
— I know it's fine.
— So, you've got a boyfriend, then.
— No.

— You know him better than I do.
— I've known him for five years and, no, I don't.
— So why do you put up with him?
— Because I'm desperate, that's why.

John, um... I think you should know I consider myself married to my work and while I'm flattered, I'm really not looking for any...

They're not suicides, they're serial killings. We've got a serial killer. Love those.

— Well, you have just killed the man.
— Yes, I... It's true... But he wasn't a very nice man.

— Listen, I was wondering... Maybe later, when you're finished...
— You're wearing lipstick. You're weren't wearing lipstick before.
— I, er... I refreshed it a beat.
— Sorry, you were saying?
— I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee.
— Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs.

— You've got to stop him doing that. He's making us look like idiots.
— If you can tell me how he does it, I'll stop him.

— Is that three patches?
— It's a three-patch problem.

— John, you're a soldier, and it's going to take you a while to adjust to civilian life, and writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you.
— Nothing happens to me.

Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?

— What happened to the lipstick?
— It wasn't working for me.
— Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now.

— She said you get off on this, you enjoy it.
— And I said "dangerous", and here you are.

— Do people usually assume you're the murderer?
— Now and then, yes.

You can tell a good Chinese by the bottom third of the door handle.