Flack: I hear you have an inspector in-house.
Stella: Yeah, I think, at some point, she worked with Mac. They were both up for his job.
Flack: He doesn't mind her looking over his shoulder?
Stella: Actually, it's weird, he seems to be fine with it.
Flack: Is she pretty? This inspector? (she gives him a look as he smiles) I'm just sayin'.

Flack: Our vic's this way. Floater, showed up in the middle of the sailboat race between New York and New Jersey.
Danny: I read about that. It's a reenactment of a race that happened back in the 1600s.
Mac: Yeah. Legend has it the winner got possession of Staten Island
Flack: Is it too late to give it back?
Danny: Yeah, very funny, Flack!

Flack: So Stella told me your mysterious caller disappeared.
Mac: Haven't got a call at 3:33 a.m. in over a week.
Flack: Maybe your guy decided it was time to stop stalking you.
Mac: Maybe he's getting ready to take it to the next level.

Flack: So the Hatfields and the McCoys couldn't keep it together long enough to merge the family fortunes.

Flack: What happened down there? I got a call from Dispatch saying there was some kind of problem. I got here as fast as I could.
Danny: Some methane bubbles caused an explosion. Hawkes got caught underneath the ship's mast.
Flack: Some guys would do anything for an early retirement.

George Foodim: After hitting a few bars, I went back to Brett's apartment and that's when I found him. I started to call the cops, right? But it's not like there was anything I could do. He was already dead. I had to get him to the park.
Flack: Uh, y-you're gonna have to help us out here, pal. Why did you have to get Brett to the park?
George Foodim: It was a bet. He was engaged twice before, couldn't go through with it. I bet our buddy Toby that Brett would definitely show up this time. There was no way I was gonna lose.
Mac: Whoa, whoa. You stuffed, dressed and moved your dead friend for a bet?
George Foodim: It was a hundred grand, man. I...I don't have it. And if I didn't pay up, Toby would have gone to my dad.
Det. Flack: It never occurred to you, with your friend being dead and all, that just maybe the bet was off?
George Foodim: I told you.
Flack: Yeah. Fifteen shots of tequila. I heard you.
George Foodim: Yeah, well it made... made sense yesterday morning. I feel bad. If you knew Brett, Brett, (laughs a bit) Yeah, I mean, he, he would've laughed. He would've done the same thing, I'm telling you.

Hawkes: (assessing the chemicals from the trashed office) Phosphoric acid, sulfuric acid, hydrochloric acid. He couldn't have kept the keys in the English room?
Danny: Which one of those you think melted this guy's face off?
Hawkes: Hydrofluoric acid. Highly lethal. Trace amounts of this on the skin can dissolve and eat it away without you even knowing it.

Hawkes: (formulating on the board) Silicon Dioxide plus four molecules of hydrofluoric acid produces...
Danny: Oh me, me, me, pick me! (takes a marker and writes on the board).
Hawkes: That's cold, man.
Danny: (has written N(e)R(d)! on the board)

Hawkes: Crime of passion?
Mac: That's one possibility. Or... she's the inside guy? They planned this robbery together, but before she got her cut...her partner double-crossed her.

Jimmie Davis: Mac Taylor. Heard your voice on the phone, I couldn't believe it. Now you're standing here. Look like your old man. Been a long time, Mac.
Mac: Since we were kids.
Jimmie Davis: Yeah. Last I heard you were in New York, married, working for the mayor's office or something.
Mac: I'm a crime-scene investigator.
Jimmie Davis: Phew. Must be something, huh? What's the statute of limitations for us sneaking into Wrigley? What brings you back, Mac?
Mac: Bobby Toole is dead.
Jimmie Davis: That's supposed to be funny? He's been dead for 30 years.
Mac: Yeah. But they found his body today, in the Tribune Building.
Jimmie Davis: We swore we were never gonna talk about this. I haven't told a soul.
Mac: Somebody put his body in the Tribune Building for me to find, the word coward on the wall. Did you do it, Jimmie?
Jimmie Davis: What? What, are you out of your mind, Mac? Huh? Is this some kind of sick joke to you?
Mac: Over a month ago I got a T-shirt stained with blood. I didn't know until today, that's your brother's shirt. Will's blood. The same shirt he was wearing when Bobby Toole beat him to death.
Jimmie Davis: You feeling guilty, Mac?
Mac: I don't regret the choice I made that day.
Jimmie Davis: No, I don't imagine that you do, because you didn't lose a brother. Your family didn't fall apart. You didn't watch your father cry for the first time in your life, watch him crumble to his knees. You didn't spend ten years trying to make it up to your mother and your little brother, lying to little Andy about how Will died. Not you.

Jordan: I'm not trying to give you a hard time here, Stella. Don't make me the villain. I'm on your side. I just wish you were on mine.
Stella: What's that supposed to mean?
Jordan: Why am I the last to know that Reed is practically Mac's son?
Stella: It wasn't my place to share that information.

Kevin Murray: At least tell me what he said?
Mac: What who said?
Kevin Murray: The guy about me dying tomorrow.
Mac: Well, I'm sorry, that's part of an ongoing investigation.
Kevin Murray: This morning you said he'd been to the future. Did he say how or where or when I'd be killed?
Mac: Again, unless you have some information to share that might shed some light on our victim, I don't see what else we can do for you.
Kevin Murray: How about guaranteeing me I'm still alive in 24 hours!

Lindsay: (observes Danny looking at lipstick samples) Need help picking the right shade?
Danny: Ha, ha, ha, that's just it. Unless the make-up counter at Bloomie's is selling mood lipstick, this partial print we got from the vic's mouth seems to have changed color. It started out pink.
Lindsay: And now it's amber.
Danny: Means the efflorescent crystalline residue we're looking at is atropine trace.
Lindsay: Well, that explains the color shift. So which cheerleader wore it?
Danny: And if she had poison on her lips, why isn't she dead too?

Lindsay: (walking into Stella's office and sees a gift on her desk) Only 61 days until Christmas, although it looks like you've already gotten some gifts.
Stella: Uh, yeah. It's getting embarrassing. This guy I met a couple of weeks ago. He's extremely persistent. Last week it was a parachute. This week it's rock climbing gear.
Lindsay: (smiling) Sounds like Mr. Adventure wants to get physical.

Lindsay: (walks into Mac's office, holding a clear evidence bag with clothing) I think I'm gonna be sick.
Mac: Is that Natalie's dress?
Lindsay: Yep. She kept it in a plastic bag in the back of her closet. We collected semen samples. There were two donors, just like she said.
Mac: Call the DA, get a warrant for Jessie Carver's DNA.
Lindsay: We don't need to. He's already in the system. One of the donors is a guy named Frank Moore aka Wallace Carver.
Mac: He's not Jessie's father.
Lindsay: (goes over to the computer and searches the database) He's a convicted sex offender. He was released four years ago, never registered. He fell off the map.
Mac: And the other donor is Jessie Carver.
Lindsay: Except, he's not Jessie Carver.
Mac: Hank Bedford. 1999: sexual assault, 2001: sexual assault...
Lindsay: Check out the date of birth.
Mac: March 18, 1976.
Lindsay: He's 32 years old, Mac.
Mac: He was posing as a 17-year-old student to prey on high school girls.