Ellen: "God, that feels excellent. Yeah, she has pictures of you in her house."
Duncan: "Why would you fake your death and change your identity and then... Aw, fuck it."
Gramps: "Like I would tell you that."
Duncan: "What, like I would immediately tell my wife that her mother is alive?"
Gramps: "You would, and you know you would. The only thing keeping the rest of it secret is that telling Nina the circumstances of her parentage is a total bummer."
Duncan: "I would have kept it secret!"
Gramps: "Bullshit. What do you do if she woke up one morning and asked you if she was the product of a sexual assault? How would you feel lying about that?"
Duncan: "Uh, perfectly fine? And also I already knew that part?"
Gramps: "I think of you as the son I never had except for Beardy, who doesn't count for a myriad of reasons."
Duncan: "So as your son, is there anything else you haven't told me?"
Gramps: "There's still five episodes of this schlock left. You do the math."
Sprezzatura: "Duncan, I have figured out a man through the use of science. Platinum Ginger is named Robert Harper, he's a former Army Ranger and decorated sniper."
Duncan: "Sniper? But that means he is going to shoot us to death from far away!"
Sprockets: "Well, technically it means somebody's getting shot from..."
Duncan: "Guess I'm gonna die then. Not surprised. I've always been Platinum Level."
Gramps: "Let's get you out of the country."
Duncan: "I'm no Roman Polanski. Let's just kill the sniper instead. Switcheroo."
Tate: "What the fuck is going on?"
Morgan: "No big deal. I faked my boyfriend's disappearance to cover up his murder."
Tate: "Just like that?"
Morgan: "Yeah! It was awesome. I mean, I'm sorry you're stressed but we had no way of knowing his dad would be so sweet and honorable as to come make a formal apology."
Tate: "Who's we? They are not friends, they are abductors! This ain't Stockholm! We are not all in this together, you stupid girl!"
Morgan: "You're slow to adapt, I get that. Just think of it like hypothermia. Let the waves of oblivion lap at your neck until you stop caring. And then before you know what's happening, you'll love it. You'll begin to crave it. You'll hate and fear a time they weren't here, telling us when to sleep and when to wash. When to cry and when to lie down and die. Get on the bus, get off the bus. In our heads, our insect masters, listening to our conversations and our thoughts..."