They're like, "What is it with us and bars? Man, like we're always meeting in bars and then running away to secret locations for day-long fuckfests and then accusing each other of being Al-Qaeda and then talking each other into committing ourselves to mental hospitals or killing ourselves. It is so crazy how we're always doing that."
Brody: "This is not a booty call. It looks like a booty call and walks like a booty call and quacks like a booty call -- and in fact it is a booty call -- but it's not a booty call."
Carrie: "Oh, I couldn't be less interested in all the sex we're going to have soon. Now, tell me more about your crumbling marriage."
Brody: "There's only one woman who understands me."
Carrie: "Who is it? Just kidding, it's me. But listen, you have a political career to think of, my old friend and nothing more. Aren't you two the new JFK and Jackie?"
Brody: "It all ends with a bullet in my brain, huh?"
Carrie: "Whoa, what? Dark!"
Saul: "How's it going?"
Quinn: "You know how Danny DeVito and Rhea Perlman just made sense? This is like the personality equivalent of that."
Nick: "So really, how have you been?"
Carrie: "So really, I have been really awesome. Getting pretty close..."
Nick: "To what?"
Carrie: "My, uh. Goal."
Nick: "Why did you just turn into that one annoying girl on Facebook?"
Carrie: "I can't name names, but I'm circling a certain terrorist..."
Nick: "As long as it's not me! Wockawockawocka!"
Carrie: "No -- and sorry, again, about that -- no, I'm back on the right guy. The big guy. The head-of-the-snake guy?"
There's a moment here, and it's so lovely, where she looks out at him through all the layers, all of them, like he's an animal or an alien and she can't fathom how a person could turn, how you get brainwashed, how you go away and somebody who is a broken version of yourself that is the opposite of yourself moves in: "Who stole eight years of your life?"
What she gets back is: Nothing at all. He turns the knife as it's coming at him, starts to twist the whole conversation in a way that seems kind, but is so fucking sick that it's like the existential dread all over again, as he does it. She puts on her smile, the "we are doing okay" smile. It isn't big enough; it couldn't ever be big enough.