Gwen: "Mr. Larsen. Lovely to see you. Even lovelier to see that your home is full of absolute darkness even at midday. I hope my frigid intense air doesn't bother you."
Larsen: "No, it's the fact that you're standing here in the middle of my pitch-black kitchen while I'm getting my day-drunk on."
Jamie: "[Niceties]. Anyway, we want you to read a public statement on Richmond's behalf. In return, he will pretend to care about your dead daughter."
Larsen: "You know who pretends to care about my dead daughter? Absolutely everybody. You know who does jack about it? Everybody. Leave, please. I need to drink in muggy wet darkness and remember the sins of my past."
Gwen: "I know the ADA who is prosecuting your completely legitimate kidnapping and assault charges for that crime you shouldn't have committed and was utterly pointless."
Larsen: "If you're offering me a deal, submit it in writing."
Gwen: "No. I mean maybe. I mean later. I mean okay, but first do what I want. The election is at the end of the season. Your trial is after that. I'm going to need to use you up, and your goodwill, long before this matters."
Larsen: "I said in writing."
Jamie: "Uh, here's my card. I can see this is going south pretty fast."
(But not south enough, or fast enough, apparently.)
Gwen: "Too bad about Belko, shooting the Councilman and then going on that shooting spree and shooting his mother and shooting himself in the face. Sorta like how he helped kidnap and beat up that guy and now you're going to jail for it, except this time you can actually do the right thing."
Larsen: "Yeah, thanks. I kind of already knew everything on this entire show is my fault."
Gwen: "I'm just spitballin' here."
Linden: Wandering the island at random, climbing over fences and whatever. Into the burial grounds. It would seem to me that Native Americans die at the same rate as everybody else on earth, right? So how come whenever there are more than like two Indians in the same place, there's always a graveyard somewhere nearby? It's either a White America archetypal guilt thing, since we put them there and the ones we didn't are in concentration camps, but maybe it's because they don't have to use coffins like everybody else? And that's interesting? I would like to be buried under a blackthorn tree.