- Lucy Spiller: Do you trust me?
- Holt McLaren: I don't even like you.
- Lucy Spiller: I don't like you either.
- Holt McLaren: Then we're safe.
- Willa McPherson: I broke a promise.
- Brent Barrow: Which one? There are only three, sweetheart. The check is in the mail. This will only hurt a little.
- Willa McPherson: That's two. What's the third?
- Brent Barrow: I won't come in your mouth.
- Willa McPherson: But I want you to.
- Julia Mallory: [mistaking Toby for Holt] Hola, titty-boy!
- Toby: Uh, hang on. I've got Holt McLaren for you.
- Willa McPherson: Look, we coupled. That doesn't make us a couple. You can relax. I'm not expecting to meet your mother.
- Brent Barrow: Well, that's good. She's dead.