- Olivia Pope: Huck is taking a personal day.
- Quinn Perkins: Personal day?
- Olivia Pope: Personal day.
- Abby Whelan: We get personal days? What? We get vacation now too?
- Abby Whelan: You can't look up one FBI agent for me?
- David Rosen: What's in it for me?
- Abby Whelan: Oh, you're pathetic. You really want dinner that badly?
- David Rosen: Well, now I don't.
- Mellie Grant: How many Presidents have had sex on this table, do you think? Do you want to have sex? Here? With me, I mean? I couldn't eat on this if you had sex with somebody else. It'd have to be burned.
- President Fitzgerald Grant: You're drunk.
- Mellie Grant: That's impossible. A lady never gets drunk.
- Agent Bryce: There's also a woman with a bomb at the Capitol. We have to make sure it's not a coordinated attack.
- President Fitzgerald Grant: I need to get to the sit room...
- [walks toward the door]
- Agent Bryce: I can't allow that, sir.
- President Fitzgerald Grant: Good luck stopping me.
- Agent Bryce: I'm afraid that under these current threat protocols, I'd be forced to tackle you, sir.
- President Fitzgerald Grant: Tackle me?
- Mellie Grant: There goes our romantic getaway.
- Olivia Pope: Does it look like they're bringing in the file?
- Harrison Wright: Unless the file looks like a sniper rifle, no.
- President Fitzgerald Grant: Olivia Pope being blown to bits? That's your dream, isn't it?
- Mellie Grant: [a little drunk] Oh, no. That's my nightmare. If your whore had died today, brave and strong, protecting a congressman inside the Capitol with a nation watching? Honey, the nails, the wood, the cross you would build and hammer her on, the worship you would feel for the rest of your days down on your knees praying to Saint Olivia Pope, that would be I lose. Our little war. I'd lose. I am spectacular, but I can't compete with religious fervor, so, no, I was not hoping that she would be blown up today. I am not miserable that she survived. I am celebratin'. Because Olivia Pope still walks this earth. She's still alive. And as long as she's still alive, well, she's your flaw. Your Achilles' heel. Which makes her my weapon. She's the strings that, if need be, I will pull to make my puppet husband dance. So cheers, baby. Drink up. I live to fight another day!