- Brock Samson: Special Agent-in-Training Brock Samson reporting for duty.
- Hunter Gathers: Don't you salute me, you bastard! Leave that Little John-John crap back in Biloxi.
- Brock Samson: Yes sir!
- Hunter Gathers: And don't sir me, damn you! You're not in the Marines anymore. This is intelligence. Start using it!
- Dr. Venture: The whole Russian mail-order-bride deal on the Internet, is that on the up and up?
- Molotov Cocktease: I wouldn't know.
- Dr. Venture: Because those Chinese ones are a real racket. The damn thing was already dead when the crate finally showed up!
- Dr. Venture: Well, let's say we get you settled in. Shall I make up the fold-out couch in my dad's old study for you, or, ahh, would you be more comfortable in the master suite?
- Molotov Cocktease: Get something straight, I am here only as a favor to that man whose feet you aren't even fit to kiss. I am not protecting your lives, I am saving his. Because by the time he gets back, you will no longer need a baby sitter. I'm going to turn you into men.
- Dr. Venture: [to Molotov] Well, after that rigamarole I could use a night cap. Care to join me? I've been squirreling away a bottle of cooking sherry for a special occasion but, haha, heck this is cause enough to celebra...
- [Molotov walks off]
- Dr. Venture: Some other time, then.
- Dr. Orpheus: No no, it sounds delightful. I'll get the glasses.
- Brock Samson: [about sparing people] No women, no children?
- Hunter Gathers: No women, no children. Them's rules. Separates us from the baddies.
- Brock Samson: But what if she's an enemy agent?
- Hunter Gathers: Uh-uh.
- Brock Samson: An assassin?
- Hunter Gathers: No.
- Brock Samson: A double-agent assassin who just killed the President.
- Hunter Gathers: No sir. Non-lethal takedown only. President's not the president anyway, you know that.
- Brock Samson: Oh. Hey, how about, you know, uh... a lady Dracula?
- Hunter Gathers: You mean, le vampyr? Nosferatu?
- Brock Samson: Guess.
- Hunter Gathers: Undead. Not technically a woman in that regard, so you got no beef there. Also, fictitious.
- Brock Samson: Where's Hank?
- Dr. Venture: Up in his room. Our little man is grounded.
- Brock Samson: What'd he do?
- Dr. Venture: Get this, I'm working in the lab, right? And Hank sleepwalks in, hauls off and smacks me in the head with a papier-mache sword, pees his pants and passes out.
- Brock Samson: So, I didn't miss much?
- Dr. Venture: Pfft. What's there to miss?
- Hank Venture: Dean, Dean, sometimes I forget you're younger than me.
- Dean Venture: By a lousy four minutes!
- Hank Venture: Well then maybe in four minutes you'll understand!