Lance: You want to play hardball? Good. Word on the street is, you like jazz.
Sendak: I don't just like jazz; I'm fond of it.
Lance: I don't understand the difference. Give us your memories or I will ruin jazz for you forever.
Sendak: I'd like to see you try.
Lance: Wrong choice, daddy-o.
Lance: ♪ Skeeba-dee-skop-gop, boo-ba-roppin jazz ♪ ♪ Jazzity-jazz, joozle jazz ♪ ♪ Jizz jang jingle jazz ♪
Hunk: What are you gonna tell your kids, man? That their daddy's a crook?
Sendak: I don't have any kids.
Hunk: My whole thing was based on you having kids! Now all of this is gonna be hypothetical.
Keith: [Opens a roll-up bag full of weapons]
Shiro: No tools, Keith.
Pidge: All right, mister, here are five stories about my friend Lee-Ann and her alleged Lyme disease.
Sendak: How's that gonna make me talk?
Pidge: Not everything's about you, Sendak. I just needed to vent. God, you're such a Lee-Ann.
Coran: All right, listen up, buddy. You're gonna tell me where it is. And also what it is. I'm a little unclear what we're after.
Lance: ♪ Zwee-bop, zwee-bob, Bob and the mob ♪ ♪ Mob-mob-mob ♪ ♪ Bob-Bob-Bob ♪
Keith: [Unsheaths a sword]
Shiro: No swords.
Hunk: So she's gonna look up at you, with hypothetical tears in her hypothetical eyes, and ask why all the other hypothetical daddies came in for career day. [Breaks down crying] I can't. I can't.
Pidge: So it's like, "Yeah, maybe you're tired all the time "because you're sick, Lee-Ann, or maybe you're depressed because you live in Reno."
Lance: ♪ Ta-ta, ta-ta-ta, ta-ta, dibbity-doo ♪ ♪ Cymbal-cymbal-cymbal-cymbal cymbal-cymbal ♪














