Transcripts - Forever Dreaming

Last season on Dexter...

The butchered bodies were submerged inside these garbage bags...

Did you hear that?

30 bags. Do you know what that means?

There might be a new mass m*rder*r out there way worse than the Ice Truck k*ller.

Uh-oh.

Eight confirmed victims of the Bay Harbor Butcher.

That's what the press is calling whoever dumped those bodies offshore.

Last thing Miami needs is another serial k*ller.

Any idea who the FBI is sending?

Some guy named Lundy.

We have positive IDs on all 18 of our complete bodies.

All 13 were either tried for m*rder or at least suspected of m*rder.

Bay Harbor Butcher? Give me one sh*t, I'd put a b*llet in the fucker's head.

You really feel that way?

If Dad taught us one thing, it's the value of human life.

Yeah, but I think we had different homework assignments.

Tell me the truth. Are you an addict?

Yes, I have an addiction.

I'm Dexter.

Hi, Dexter.

There's my sponsor.

So tell me, exactly how full of sh*t are you?

This woman sees me.

Somehow she's able to make me feel OK about what I am.

You're going to tell me all your deepest, darkest secrets.

Laura Moser, my mother, she was m*rder*d.

I've never told anyone that before.

Did you find out what happened to the men responsible for your mother's m*rder?

Santos Jimenez. Turned state's evidence, went into witness protection.

Where are you?

I've decided to look up someone from my past.

1976!

You slaughtered her cause she stole cocaine.

She was a snitch for a cop. She was f*cking him.

It seems my foster father and my biological mother were having an affair.

Did he blame himself for her death? Is that why he took me in?

Or was he just using her? Was he using me?

But there ain't no paper trail on the early years of Dexter Morgan.

Your past is a bigger mystery than f*cking Jimmy Hoffa.

Back... off.

Ow! f*ck!

If Dexter files a complaint, you will be kicked off the force.

He's hiding something, Maria. I can feel it.

I need some blood slides analyzed.

I'm about to be found out at work for what I really am.

You don't understand.

Why don't you make me?

Who the f*ck are you?

Oh, pardon my tits.

How could you do this to Rita, not to mention her kids?

You and Lila stayed in a hotel together.

It's over, Dexter.

I'm sure that you heard we have a suspect in the Bay Harbor Butcher case.

Sergeant James Doakes.

He had the slides.

Carefully hidden in the trunk of his car at the airport.

Jesus Christ, Morgan. You're the Bay Harbor Butcher.

You sure about that? You might want to check with Lundy.

What's it gonna be, Morgan? k*ll me now or set me free!

Don't worry, I'll send the FBI your way soon enough.

So you're still gonna try to frame me?

Mission accomplished.

After tomorrow, I'll be out of reach. Permanently.

You're going somewhere?

Goodbye, Lila.

Welcome. Previous destinations. Starting route guidance.

Hey! Who's out there? Anybody out there?

Who put you in there?

His name is Dexter Morgan.

I found out that he's the Bay Harbor Butcher. Please, just open this gate!

Poor thing, all alone.

I'm OK.

Not you. Dexter.

What the f*ck are you doing? Turn that off! Do you understand this is m*rder?

What were you thinking? Are you insane?

I was trying to bring us back together.

The Lila experiment is officially over.

Could have had it all, Dexter.

I've never put much weight into the idea of a higher power, but if I didn't know better, I'd have to believe that some force out there wants me to keep doing what I'm doing.

You wanted to be close to me, Lila? This is the most I have to offer.

You taught me to accept what I am.

Thank you.

The code is mine now and mine alone.

So too are the relationships I cultivate.

My father might not approve, but I'm no longer his disciple.

I'm a master now.

An idea transcended into life.

Internal monologue (IM): Ah, life! Life is ritual, routine, control.

IM: And a central part of that routine: regular oral hygiene.

Dentist: There you are! Few minutes, that'll numb right up.

Dentist: So, how was your summer, Dexter?

Dexter: I went to the carnival. I even won a prize.

Dentist: Hope you stayed away from all the sweet stuff.

Dexter: Usually I'm good, but sometimes I indulge.

Dexter: I also made a point to meet new people.

Dentist: Never have too many friends! Now this temporary crown is gonna go way in the back, so there may be some blood.

Dexter: Not a problem.

Dentist: So you still have your boat?

Dexter: Oh, you bet! It's the only place I can really—let everything go.

Dentist: Sounds great! We'll have you up and out on that water in no time.

IM: For someone who needs to spend his life pretending to be normal, I've been able to finally—settle in, to a nice, normal world.

IM: And Rita is the scaffolding that holds that world in place.

Rita: What're you thinking?

Dexter: Life is good!

Rita: Hmm...

Dexter: Here you go, buddy! Okay, Astor, you're up! Micky Mouse, unicorn or starfish?

Astor: Just plain round (?) pancake, Sexter!

Rita: She's growing up.

Dexter: Starts with pancakes?

Rita: It starts with Sex.

Cody: Hey, Dexter? Em, can you come to Dad Day at my school tomorrow?

Dexter: Just tell me what to do!

Rita: The Sharlet's (?)!

Cody: Bye, Mom! See you, Dexter!

Astor: Bye, Mom!

Rita: Bye.

Dexter: Get your bag!

Rita: You hear that?

Dexter: Hear what?

Rita: The calm. Everything's falling into place for the first time in my life. I get these terrific kids, there's no more drama haunting me, and I have this great, generous gentle guy. Hmm...

IM: Most normal people enjoy a sacred pack with society: Live a good life and society will take care of you. But if society drops the ball then someone else has to pick up the slack. That's where I come in. Fred Bowman, AKA "Freebo"—kills two college girls and escapes on a state police screw-up, otherwise known as Florida's "catch-and-release program". He does the deed, gets away with m*rder, and falls off the radar—everyone's rader but mine.

Dexter: You got a birthday coming up, Dad!

IM: What to get a man who had everything? How about "Freebo"?

Someone: Morning, Dex!

IM: Dexter, the donut guy—part of my routine. But let the record show: I'm not the only one with a daily ritual. Angel Batista: bear claw; Vince Masuka: lemon custard.

Masuka: Hmm, better than sex! Actually, no, it's not. Hey, I need a favor. You think you can, er, proof an article I'm running for FQ? Forensics Quarterly?

Dexter: Right! Yeah.

Masuka: They made me (?) a star because I was the LFI.

Dexter: Lead Forensic Investigator...

Masuka: On the BHB.

Dexter: Bay Harbor Butcher.

Masuka: M-hm.

Dexter: Hey!

Debra: Hey.

Masuka: No biggie, I've been published before.

Debra: Hah, "Dear Penthouse" doesn't count.

Masuka: Hey, that letter was famous!

Quinn: Death by pastry, hehe.

Quinn: You changed your hair, makes you look younger.

Debra: I don't wanna look younger!

Quinn: Bad call then. By the way, nice work on the Ronally (?) case.

Debra: Yeah, well, m*rder su1c1de, pretty strait forward.

Quinn: Well, still, I mean, your word (?) was spot on, right?

Debra: All right! Quinn's been in Homicide two weeks and he noticed.

Dexter: Noticed what?

Debra: My hair! I changed my hair style for the first time since I was eight!

Dexter: Oh yeah! It's short—er, shorter. And, and Quin, he's just showing off his detective skill...

Debra: Well, you think he thinks I'm a potential lay? That is not happening! And as long as you're not noticing things, you've also not noticed that I've given up men, liquor and smokes for the last 27 days.

Debra: This year you're remembering Dad's birthday, though, right?

Dexter: Dad, birthday, right!

Debra: Blue room, 7:30, like always.

Laguerta: I was just calling you last night.

Angel: I, er, wasn't home.

Laguerta: I also tried your cell phone.

Laguerta: You're in the same pants you were in yesterday, and that shirt's backup one you keep in your locker.

Angel: (Spanish) I thought part of your restructuring our department is you staying out of our personal lives.

Laguerta: Anything you want me to know?

Angel: Know this: I went out and had a great time last night, and you should be happy for me. Besides, since when do you care?

Laguerta: Since this—follow me.

Laguerta: Okay, guys, listen up! I've just got word from upstairs that Angel will no longer be Detective Batista.

People: What?

Laguerta: In two days, he will be Detective Sergeant Batista!

People: Hey! Wow! Yeah!

Laguerta: I'm sorry for all the red tapes and the hoops, but nobody deserves it more than you, (Spanish).

Angel: So, er, when, when this is really official, when I can trade this in for that gold badge—trinks all on me!

People: Yeah! Wow!

Debra: Angel get his wings, you know what this means?

Dexter: Payways (?)?

Debra: No, dildo! It means he's my supervisor, which means I'm a lock (?) from my detective shield.

Debra: Where're you going?

Dexter: Er, research.

Masuka: Dex! Er, typos, grammar, something could be clearer, whatever. Haircut?

Debra: Yep.

IM: Time to get the lay of the land on Freebo and his—pink house.

Boy: What you need?

Dexter: Freebo, I need Freebo.

Boy: And you know him how?

Dexter: He sells the best sh*t anywhere.

Boy: Come on, man, what? You googled him or something?

Dexter: You know what? f*ck it, there's other dope spots.

Boy: Ay, ay, come here! Don't walk away all "f*ck you" on me!

Freebo: What?

Boy: Ding, ding!

Dexter: I'm looking to hold some product.

Freebo: Ordinarily I don't accept new clientele, but I've had a desultory third quartel. Hmm! Oh, come on!

Dexter: Need a little more hook before breaking into the pocket, hahaha.

Freebo: Ha. You know I brought this TV for six grand but I'll let you have it for three.

Dexter: Well, I'm interested in scoring some tarp (?).

Freebo: Ah, then the yeppie turns to the dark side.

Teegan: I need a hay.

Freebo: Geez, Teegan! I'm transacting here.

Teegan: One tooth.

Freebo: Did you here what I said? f*ck off, Teegan!

Teegan: Fine, I guess your d*ck can suck itself from now on!

Freebo: Stupid c**t's gonna re-define "short-term relationship". Catch my drift?

Dexter: I catch your drift.

IM: And I'm entirely confidant you've earned the privilege to re-purposed as fish food.

IM: Narcotics raided this place at noon today. The drug rats won't return to their nest for a while. Plenty of time to do what I have to do.

Yuki: Raw, you like it raw.

Debra: Excuse me?

Yuki: Your sugar—you like the raw stuff. It's my job to notice things. Morgan, right?

Debra: Do I know you?

Yuki: New haircut—it's cute!

Debar: Alright, who the f*ck are you?

Yuki: Yuki Amado, Internal Affairs.

Debra: And?

Yuki: You know a Joey Quinn?

Debra: Why?

Yuki: Well, started drawing our attention back when he was in Nartotics. He's in your orbit now.

Debra: I don't know the guy except he handles my paperwork.

Yuki: It'd be really cool if you could get next to him, you know—do a little recon.

Debra: Are you high?

Yuki: No, never been.

Debra: Well, Yuki, that's not gonna happen.

Yuki: Cooperation with IA has its upside in the Department.

Debra: Yeah, maybe for rodents.

Yuki: Okay! Well, it's nice to finally meet you—in person, you know. Bye.

Debra: And what is it you think Quinn did exactly?

Yuki: Hm, m-hm, you, you don't get to blow me off and still ask questions.

IM: Loud music, cover of darkness—perfect.

Guy: Freebo, get back here!

Guy: Who are you?

Dexter: Who are you?

Dexter: sh*t, oh!

Someone: (inaudible)

IM: What the f*ck happened back there? I went to k*ll Freebo and ended up k*lling a total stranger. I've never k*lled anyone I didn't complete vet before—whose guilt I wasn't absolutely certain of. I didn't something wholly inside the moment—and wholly outside the code—something spontaneous. Who did I just k*ll?

IM: Freebo's doorman. I am f*cked. Just a matter of time before someone calls it in.

Dexter: Hey, you!

Rita: Dexter, hey! This' not one of our regular nights, but, can you come over?

Dexter: Er, sure. Everything okay?

Rita: I am. Just, just missing you, that's all.

Dexter: God, you're on fire lately!

Rita: Are you complaining?

Dexter: I'm compliant.

Rita: Where are you?

Dexter: I'm right here. Je suis présent.

Rita: Hmm.

Dexter: Hmm.

Rita: God created pudding, and then he rested.

Dextet: Pudding of chocolate: manna from heaven. Haha. What're the kids gonna get for dessert tomorrow?

Rita: Tangerines.

Dexter: Hehe.

Dexter: Dexter Morgan. Yes, I'm happy with my long distance provider.

Rita: What the hell ever happened to "Do Not Call"—steaming Morgan (?)?

IM: Not in India.

Dexter: I have an insanely busy morning tomorrow, so, I'll be gone before you and the kids wake up.

Rita: Dexter, you've been working such k*ller hours lately. Just hold me till you have to go.

Dexter: Just a matter of time...

Dexter: Morning Sergeant!

Angel: How long for you to get to 118 Kelland (?)?

Dexter: Err, 20, 30 minutes.

Debra: I got it, Dex!

Dexter: You got what?

Debra: Only the case that's gonna get me my shield. It's huge. Angel put me on it—officially on it.

Dexter: Huge?

IM: Who the hell are you?

Debra: Bet you wanna know who the hell he is.

Debra: Who he is what makes this case huge. That's Miguel Prado. He's at 88, he's on been on a mission to put away as many bad guys as he can, you know? The save Miami is the only Miami?

Masuka: Save Miami and we're all unemployed.

Dexter: Why's he look so familiar?

Angel: Cause he just made the cover of Florida Magazine—top prosecutor three years in a row.

Debra: He and Laguerta go way back, you know? That whole Cubano thing?

Angel: The other guy is Ramond Prado, Miguel's middle brother, he's a lieutenant with the Sheriff's Department.

Debra: Made himself quite the reputation for being a law-and-order hardass. And—Oscar.

Dexter: Prado?

Debra: As in "baby brother".

IM: So much for spontaneity.

Dexter: What was he doing in a dump like this?

Angel: They're saying that he's a coach at a youth club, came here to confront the scumbag about selling sh*t to his kids.

Debra: Talk about wrong place at the wrong time!

Dexter: Tell me about it!

Dexter: Find anything?

Masuka: Yeah. Dead guy, with a hole in his chest.

Dexter: Hey, this window's cracked, and there's blood on the wall. Who shut these drapes?

Masuka: Probably first-on-scene.

Forensic tech: Some dipshit regu (?) still outside puking.

Dexter: So, what do we got?

Masuka: Ah, signs of a major league big struggle here, there, everywhere, single s*ab wound to the chest. TV Monco (?) yet?

Dexter: Started it. So far's really good.

Masuka: Awsome.

Miguel: (Spanish)

Ramond: Whoever did this, he's wishing he was dead.

Debra: Someone really stepped on his d*ck with this one.

IM: There so many lessons in the vaunted Code of Harry, twisted commandments handed down from the only God I ever worshipped. One through ten: Don't get caught. That I got covered. But k*lling someone without knowing if he's guilty—I'd love some help on this one. But my God is dead now.

Angel: Man's best friend, ay, Dex?

Dexter: Not today! Hey, my sister said that Laguerta knows this Miguel Prodo pretty well?

Angel: Way back when, when Mi... Hey, sup? Way back when, when Miguel was in law school, and Maria was just starting in law enforcement, they hooked up.

Dexter: Hooked up?

Angel: Between us, for Maria, Miguel Prado will always be the one that got away.

Angel: Prelim has the victim, Oscar Prado, 26, dead, dead from a single s*ab wound to the chest. The deceased's brother, ADA Miguel Prado, informed me at the scene that Oscar went to confront one Fred Bowman, street name "Freebo", for selling dr*gs to some youth club kids. Morgan?

Debra: This Freebo's the same guy that k*lled those two co-eds in the Everglades and got away with it. So, the way it looks, Oscar Prado d*ed a hero. Also our team found a shitload of, er, substantial amount of dr*gs in the house.

Laguerta: Any leads on his whereabouts?

Debra: Er, that part the neighborhood isn't exactly police friendly, but I'm staying on it.

Laguerta: Talk to me about forensics.

Masuka: Hm, er, hm, evidence indicates this was no hit-and-run. It was a furious close-in battle. Whoever—or is it "whomever"?

Dexter: "Whoever" is good.

Masuka: Whoever did this got a lucky sh*t, or, was really good at handling a blade. According to the ME, the A-order (?) was cleanly severed in one penetration—not easy to do.

Laguerta: Any luck finding the w*apon?

Masuka: It's not at or near the premises. We've checked roof, sewers, trash bins in a five block radios. Our conclusion: The assailant took it with him.

Laguerta: Dexter, what's the blood saying?

Dexter: Pretty much what everyone else is. Er, I've some second-level on-scene work to do. I'll get back to you ASAP.

Laguerta: Get it to Sergeant Batista. Full disclosure: I've had a personal relationship with the Prado family for many years. And it goes a lot further than the whole Cubano thing! Sergeant?

Angel: Stating the obvious, Lieutenant: I like Freebo for this.

IM: Me too.

Laguerta: Morgan?

Debra: Yes, Mam?

Laguerta: Hit the streets harder, learn what you can learn.

Quinn: Er, all due respect, Lieutenant, if Freebo did this, he's not in Miami. I mean, he's, he's in the wind.

Laguerta: We can sit around on our asses and speculate on where we think the prime suspect may or may not be, or we can actually go and look for him.

Quinn: Hn.

Miguel: As a Miami prosecutor I have dedicated my career to fighting crime, to making our street safe for everyone. Every family—white, black, Latino, Asian—deserves the full mesure of our devotion to their dignity. And now the crime has touched my family in the most, er, profound way imaginable. I grieve equally for every famliy that has been visited with the same unimaginable news we news that we have received today. Our beautiful city is a city of families, and the untimely taking of any of us touches all of us. My parents brought my brother Ramond and me to this...

IM: Part of my ritual has always been getting to know my victims, confirming their guilt beyond all doubt. Oscar Prodo tried to k*ll Freebo, and he tried to k*ll me. No way he was there on some noble youth club mission. He's got to be guilty of something—aren't we all? So I ask again...

Dexter: Who are you?

Dexter: Two speeding tickts and an illegal U-turn. (???)

IM: Harry finds me in a pool of bloos, turns me into his own personal vendetta machine, and when he sees the monster he created in action, he kills himself. Deb can drink to his honor on her own.

Quinn: Any luck in the land of reluctant witnesses?

Debra: One house I play good cop, the next house I play bad cop, I still can't get sh*t from anybody in the neighborhood.

Quinn: You know what the problem is, right?

Debra: Wait, Quinn, let me guess: the cop part.

Quinn: No, they don't owe you anything. There's no incentive, which skew the balance of power way in their direction, right? Here, let me do you a favor: Call this guy, tell him you know me, tell him you're gonna cash in on my coupons.

Debra: Coupons?

Quinn: Yes, he's a CI from my days in Narcotics. (???) anything (???).

Debra: What do you want in return?

Quinn: For you to remember that I did you a solid.

Quinn: What, not even a thank-you?

Debra: Thank you. Stop looking at my ass.

Quinn: Hahahaha...

Anton: Detective!

Debra: Officer. You're Anton?

Anton: In the flesh. You got something you wanna show me?

Anton: Oh, yeah, I've seen him before.

Debra: Really? Where?

Anton: In the news. Isn't that the guy you let walk on those co-ed killings? Now that there was a fine piece of police work.

Debra: You knew him from the newspaper?

Anton: Yeah, I think I've seen him on CNN or something like that.

Debra: Okay. That's all you got?

Anton: That's all you got!

Debra: You know, if this is you and Quinn f*cking with me, I'm really not in the mood.

Anton: You know something? If you need something for that temper I've got a man down the street with some really mellow weed that can take that edge right off.

Debra: Well, thank you, but I don't take advice from drug dealers, so...

Anton: Drug dealer? Oh, never that! A drug user, occasionally—strictly weed though, Officer, strictly weed.

Debar: Then how'd you become Quinn's snitch?

Anton: I got caught up in a drug bust. Quinn told me that if I blew the whistle on a bigger fish, I stay outta jail. So I listened -- (???).

Debra: Yeah? Well, you know it never hurts an occasional drug user to have more than one friend on the force, so...

Anton: That's the thing, Officer: I've got enough friends!

Debra: Alright, well, I'm outta here.

Anton: Yeah, well, you have a good one, yeah?

Debra: What about this Prado guy?

Dexter: And, and to determine the impact site, er, the exact point where force encounters a body, you have to distinguish the geometric differences between, er, back spatter, satellite spatter, misting, and arterial spurting.

Boy: Gross!

Cody: Shut up!
Dexter: Er, you remember how before when Katie's dad was talking about being a surgeon?

Boy: Yeah?

Dexter: And, and sometimes, how he has to cut into bodies, and there's blood?

Boy: But he saves lives!

Girl: Do you save lives?

Dexter: Okay, you know there're good guys and there're bad guys?

Boy: So you catch bad guys?

Dexter: Well, not directly, but I help.

Boy: Do you have a uniform?

Dexter: A -- lab coat.

Girl: A g*n?

Dexter: No.

Cody: He's got a badge.

Dexter: It's a laminate.

Teacher: Well, thank you so much for taking time from your busy schedule, Mr. Morgan, to come and talk to the children.

Dexter: It was a real learning experience.

Dexter: Looks like I really got through to them, huh?

Cody: It would suck even worse if I didn't have a dad today.

Dexter: Thanks for inviting me, buddy!

IM: If anyone should have father issues—anger, rejection, abandonment—it's Cody. And what's he do? He moves on. How does that happen?

Dexter: I was so bad you're crying?

Rita: No, no. No, it's just, it's just something I've always wanted. I'm mean you being here for the kids—so, so wonderfully uncomplicated.

Dexter: Hello?

Miguel: Mr. Morgan, this is Miguel Prado. I need to see you, right away.

IM: So much for uncomplicated.

Miguel: They almost looks like a -- piece of art.

Dexter: Thank you, sir. But to me, it's more like a story.

Miguel: Tell me that story, Mr. Morgan!

Dexter: The encounter started over here.

Miguel: Mhm.

Dexter: The scuff marks on the linoleum, the crumbling, the throw rug—they all have a directional quality that leads to—now this is where your brother and Freebo—he's my lieutenant's prime suspect—but, you know that—there was a brutal struggle. Er, I gotta say it looks your brother fought like a hero, but he was overmatched and sustained a fatal s*ab wound to his chest. Everything about the blood suggest that your brother bled out almost instantly.

Miguel: He didn't suffer?

Dexter: Blood never lies.

Miguel: So now I know how he d*ed. Question is why. Well, one more thing Mr. Morgan: Why would a blood spatter analyst spend time searching the Sheriff's Department's database for information on my dead brother?

Dexter: Er... Like you, sir, I wanted to understand what happened here. I thought that knowing some details about your brother's life could help me make sense out of his death.

Miguel: In your line of work, Mr. Morgan, is it usual for you to get so involved? I just sounded like a prosecutor there, I'm sorry.

Dexter: It's not a problem, sir. And no, it's not usual for me to get so involved. But this one, this death got to me.

Miguel: It's just—it seems so unreal and—he's gone.

Dexter: Yeah, I know.

Miguel: So a man dies, Mr. Morgan, and what's left for soul? And what is that exactly?

Dexter: I really couldn't tell you.

Miguel: Well, some people say the soul would just live on forever.

Dexter: I hope not.

Miguel: Which makes you a cynic.

Dexter: It makes me a scientist.

Miguel: So no-one you've ever love has d*ed?

Dexter: My farther dies when I was in my twenties.

Miguel: And you don't believe that, that his, his soul, a cull of his life force is still, somehow, it's living inside you? Because I -- I should've been there for him.

Dexter: You can't blame yourself, sir.

Miguel: That's easiert said then done, Mr. Morgan.

Miguel: Do me a favor: You really wanna get to know my brother like you say? Come to his wake tonight. Come see how much and how, how fully he was loved.

Dexter: Okay.

Miguel: (???). Thank you—Dexter.

Angel: Are there reports final?

Dexter: Er, the blood speciments I collected all came back belonging to Oscar Prado.

Masuka: Er, traces on and around the victim all point to Freebo.

Angel: Anyone out there talking?

Quinn: Well, Officer Morgan was setting up the usual firewall, clammed up witnesses and eye-witnesses, so—but she'll talk to an old CI of mine, hopefully it should be...

Debra: Hey, Quinn? The CI you put me on was totally useless for Freebo.

Quinn: Sadly, it's not a perfect world.

Debra: Yeah, for all we know, Freebo's, like, in Nebraska right now.

Quinn: Well, I guess you don't own me that favor then.

Masuka: How comes he gets favors?

Debra: Well, he doesn't. But what the CI told me about the victim: He wasn't some hero coach who went into the hood and took one for the team.

Dexter: What do you mean?

Debra: Oscar Prado was in the freeroll for some serious cash. Now why would someone be at a -- I don't know—a drug dealer for big bucks?

Angel: Oh, tsh, tsh!

Debra: Because Oscar Prado, the pride of Little Havanna, was a f*cking junkie!

Miguel: Thanks, Maria.

Masuka: Good one, Morgan!

Dexter: She's been in better moods.

Debra: Yeah, I didn't exactly brighten her day.

Dexter: No, you didn't.

Debra: Well, excuse me for doing my f*cking job! You see any of the super-cops coming over with any leads?

Dexter: No, Deb, you're defintely amazing but you gotta...

Debra: I know, I know, I know: Be aware of my surroundings, take the temperature of the room before I open my mouth. I know, it's bad habit, I admit it.

Dexter: Well, look on the bright side: Now that you've given up men, booze and cigarettes, running your mouth is the only bad habit you have left.

Debra: That's right! I'm a model of f*cking perfection.

Debra: You remember what today is, right?

Dexter: How can I forget?

Debra: 7:30, I'll buy your first drink.

Angel: You wanted to see me?

Laguerta: (Spanish)

Laguerta: I need you to think about Debra Morgan's continued involvement on the Oscar Prado case.

Angel: You want me to throw her under the bus for what? Being a little overzealous?

Laguerta: It's not about zeal. It's about tact and sensitivity. It's also about the real world: This case is as high-profile as it gets.

Angel: Yeah, it's...

Laguerta: No, (Spanish). Morgan is resourceful and tenacious—and usually the right amount of pain in the ass. But there're political ramifications. Now my history with Miguel Prado aside, this case's just too big for her.

Angel: Just say the word, Maria, and I'll follow your orders.

Laguerta: Becoming a homicide sergeant is more than a bump in payscale, it's a quantum leap in responsibility—all part of moving up the chain.

Angel: If I bounce her, she'll hate me.

Laguerta: You're her boss, (Spanish), not her boss. It's up to you.

Debra: Can I get another cranberry juice?

Bartender: That makes three problems (???)?

Debra: Jeeze, I like the f*cking taste, okay?

Debra: Miss you, Dad!

Dexter: My condolences.

Miguel: Thank you for coming.

Miguel: Losing my brother is gonna leave a pain in my heart that, er, I don't think is ever going to heal. You have a brother, Dexter?

Dexter: No, just the one loud sister.

Miguel: What she said back at the station—is okay. I know my brother was a good man, but I can't say he suffered from the tragedy of perfection.

Dexter: Who does?

Miguel: Who indeed?

Ramond: Hey, brother, (???)

IM: You att*cked me with a Kn*fe in a dope dealer's house—no, Oscar, you certainly did not suffer from the tragedy of perfection. Then why does this feel so wrong? Why in your death are you still so alive in my life?

Guy: Did you know him well?

Dexter: Not as well as I thought.

Guy: Sorry!

Angel: Graco (?) Black.

Angel: Harry!

Angel: What the hell is that?

Debra: Cranberry juice, it's that gonna be a problem?

Angel: Not even close to a problem, but the taste—kind of funky.

Debra: You know when my dad was my age he already had a shield?

Angel: Kinda why I'm here. I'm taking you off the Oscar Prado case.

Debra: I come up with grade A intel on Oscar Prado and I'm getting tossed off the case for being a little loud?

Angel: In a nutshell.

Debra: Laguerta put you up to this?

Angel: It was my decision.

Debra: I'll tell you one thing, Angel: I'm not letting anyone getting in the way of me getting my shield.

Angel: There's only one person in this Department who can get in your way.

Debra: Who?

Angel: You.

Debra: Can I get a real f*cking drink, please?

Debra: Thank you.

IM: My sister's still living her life trying to please our farther. Me? I'm following the lead of an eight year old kid. I'm moving on.

Rita: Thank you for last night! It was a nice surprise.

Dexter: This is where I wanted to be.

Rita: Hmm...

Dexter: Hm, again?

Rita: Hehe...

Dexter: Hehe...

Rita: All I want is chocolate pudding—and you—not necessarily in that order.

Dexter: Morgan.

Debra: Where the f*ck were you last night?

Dexter: Rita's.

Debra: It wasn't Rita's night!

Dexter: Turns out it was.

Debra: I called you.

Dexter: I know.

Debra: And you ignored me?

Dexter: Not you—Harry. Deb, I'm in a whole other place when it comes to Dad. I'm working out some personal stuff.

Debra: You're such a f*cking guy! What is it? "You gotta k*ll your father so you can become your own man" kind of bullshit? Dad wasn't perfect, but he was there for you.

Dexter: Deb, wait!

Debra: What?!

Dexter: I'm sorry I didn't notice your haircut.

Debra: So what is it? Is it too short, too young, too dorky, or what?

Dexter: It's beautiful.

Debra: Beautiful? You just said "beautiful".

Dexter: Yes, I did, cause it is. Looks like you honored Dad for both of us last night, anyway.

Debra: I had some help.

Dexter: Haha. You getting along with the new boss-man?

Debra: Oh, f*ck it, they took me off the Oscar Prado case and put me on this—some dead-end Jane Doe.

Angel: A couple of ladies of the night called this in. Oh, mother (???), could you turn that thing off?

Dexter: We'll, er, work quietly. About halfway through your article, Vince, so far very moving.

Masuka: Yes, I was trying to make second-tier chromosom analysis sexy. Glad you're picking up on that.

Masuka: Strangled.

Dexter: So no blood. I'm the blood guy, why call me in?

Masuka: Because of this.

Masuka: Looks like our evil-doer had agenda.

Debra: Maybe it was a tattoo or something.

Angel: Dex, I need to know if this was ante- or post-mortem.

Dexter: Teegan—Freebo's girlfriend. Looks like he's still in Miami.

Laguerta: You've talked to Morgan yet?

Angel: Yep.

Laguerta: How'd she take it?

Angel: There were cursewords involved.

Laguerta: You did good—Sergeant!

Guy: (???)

Angel: Thank you!

Dentist: There you go, Dexter—good as new.

Angel: Hold the elevator! Hold!

Debra: assh*le! Sorry, Sergeant assh*le!

Angel: Ramos, Masuka, Quinn! Ramos, we got some celebrating to do!

Debra: You still drink after last night?

Angel: A man has his needs. You can go back to your cute little cranberry juice.

Debra: Ea, taste like sh*t. I'm gonna have a Mojito—or ten—on you, Serg!

Yuki: Morgan!

Debra: Oh, you so have the wrong person!

Yuki: Oh, there's a reason why Quinn's interest of IA.

Debra: No, understand me: When I say you have the wrong person, I mean me. These people are more than badge numbers for me, they're my friends—they're my family.

Yuki: Sh, sh, tsh! This is the sound of your shield, howling for help. 488.

IM: Harry said that what was inside me would be there forever, and that I wouldn't be able to change. He was half right. k*lling Oscar Prado was a bell I can't un-ring. I have moved on for my farther, but I still need his code, now more than ever. But it has to evolve, become my own. Change is good.

Rita: Hey, you!

Dexter: Hey, yourself!

Dexter: This music again? Chocolate pudding again?

Rita: Oh, sh*t!

Dexter: What?

Rita: I've done this before.

Dexter: What do you mean?

Rita: I'm pregnant.