Mel Vera: Damn it! There are thousands of Evergreen Streets, and that doesn't count for the Roads, Avenues, Courts, and Places. And none of them mean anything to me. What was I thinking?
Abigael Jameson-Caine: Oh, how should I know? I'm not wired like you, goody-two boots. Why didn't you ask Maggie the empath?
[Mel turns to look at her]
Abigael Jameson-Caine: What?
Mel Vera: You just called her "Maggie." Not some dumb nickname like "Pretty Petunia" or "Shorty Spice".
Abigael Jameson-Caine: I'm not feeling particularly creative, Mel. I'm dying.
Mel Vera: No. You're not. We'll fix this.
Abigael Jameson-Caine: Well, forgive my lack of faith, but you've misplaced the Source like a set of car keys.
Mel Vera: We didn't misplace anything. We hid it somewhere safe, and Harry wiped our memories.
Abigael Jameson-Caine: And as a result of your brilliant, disastrous plan to protect the world from the Source, we're all gonna be six feet under in a matter of days, if not hours.
Mel Vera: [a thought strikes her] Six feet under.
Abigael Jameson-Caine: Yes, it's a synonym for "dead."
Mel Vera: Oh, my god. This is it. Evergreen isn't a street.
Abigael Jameson-Caine: [looking at her laptop] It's a cemetery?
Mel Vera: Where my mother was laid to rest. I must have hid it there.
Abigael Jameson-Caine: Your own mother's grave? That's the best you could do? Do you use your pet's name as your password, as well?