CSI: Crime Scene Investigation

Tony: So I went to a couple of events and hooked into the world. I found out within one hour who killed her. Nick: So, let me get this straight. You decide to become one of them. You buy a car with your mother's death benefit toss your hat in the ring and wait for your shot. Catherine: Revenge is best served cold.

Catherine: Well, the only void is in the driver's seat. Means it was occupied by our victim, Jace Felder. So he was shot in the head, left to right. Spatter on the passenger door is from the exit wound. Nick: Well, what about the rest of this blood? It's everywhere. Catherine: He was shot while the car was in motion? Bled out while the car was rolling? I want to meet this killer.

Catherine: And you only lay down treads when your wheels aren't rolling smoothly. Panic braking? Sudden boost of acceleration? Race? Nick: I think so, yeah. Catherine: Drag racing? Nick: Or street racing. There's a reason it's illegal. Catherine: Yeah. Kids end up dead.

Grissom (looking at the victim's hand): Pair of aces. No river card, though. Burn one, turn one. (Warrick does this) Warrick: Ace of spades. Grissom: The Death Card.

Nick: I wired the target to the car's alarm system. Gotta make sure we hear it. Catherine: Always thinking there, Nicky, aren't ya? (they get into their cars and buckle up) Nick: Okay, remember full out the fifth then hit the nitrous and hang on. Catherine: You just try to keep up.

Greg: What do cowboys drink? Warrick: Whiskey. Greg: And when I chew on a lemon wedge, boy is it ... Warrick: Sour. Greg: And vacuums are great because they... (Greg puts the test results in front of Grissom and Warrick to look at) ... suck. Grissom: Reverse suction.

Steven: Opportunity knocked. (laughs) I answered. Nick: Okay. Uh, let's back up and start over shall we, Mr. Masters? You and your brother were off-roading. Steven: Yes, sir. Nick: And you stumbled upon a wrecked racer out near Mercury. Steven: Yes, sir. Nick: Why didn't you just ... ? Catherine: Wait a minute. Let me, uh, let me get in on this. Nick: Please. Catherine: What were you thinking? You-you took the car? Steven: Damn right. Engine alone's worth fifteen grand. Catherine: And what does a person's life go for? Steven: Ma'am, he was already dead. I drove the car home, washed it out. Catherine: And you didn't think to call 911 or anything like that? Steven: No. You guys would have impounded the car. Catherine: Okay, Mr. Masters. You've just confessed to grand larceny. Tampering with a crime scene. Detective Lockwood will get back to you on the murder charge. Nick: Make yourself at home, boss. (Nick and Catherine leave the room) Catherine: Jackass. Nick: Dumbass. Catherine: "Opportunity knocked."

Grissom: All right, stick around. I need your eyes. Ronnie Litre: As long as they stay in my head.

Greg: So, we meet again. Lita Gibbons wasn't putting this on her nipples, was she? Sara: You have been drinking too many Thug Passions. The woman is twice your age. She may be three times your age, Greg. (Greg chuckles and waves his hand) Greg: Old case. Sorry. (the printer whirls out the test results. Greg stands and takes the read-out. He looks at it and compares it to the prior read out from the other test. He doesn't say anything) Sara: Well? (Greg turns around to glance at Sara over his shoulder) Greg: Well, uh, you'll get your answer when I get mine.

Greg: A whiskey sour, huh? Yeah, I'm a "thug passion" man, myself. It's a Tupack thing. (Greg mispronounces Tupac) Sara: Tupac? Greg: So, what does your paramedic like to drink? I bet with a name like "Hank," he's probably got some ho's sipping on 'yac. Sara: "Yac"? Cognac? No. "Ho's?" I'm not going there and, um, that's none of your business. It's nobody's business, as a matter of fact. Greg: All right, well, I won't tell Warrick and Nick about Hank on one condition... you tell me what he's got that I don't got? (Sara smiles at Greg just as the printer prints out the test results she picks up the paper and reads it) Sara: There was tetrahydrozoline in the victim's drink. (Sara moves to leave the room. Greg stops her) Greg: Uh, I never got my answer. Sara: I got mine. You don't even like Tupac, Greg.

Warrick: How is it that you know so much about poker? Grissom: It's how I financed my first body farm in college. Warrick: You're kidding. Wow. I'm impressed and the fact that you sat at a table with actual living beings. Grissom: Well ... poker's not a game of interaction. It's a game of observation. I used to study people. And then I guess I, uh ... got bored. Now I study evidence. Warrick: What I don't get is it's not like we've never talked about gambling before. How come you never mention it? Grissom: Same reason a good player hides his "tells." Warrick: He doesn't want to be exposed.

Warrick: Is that what I think it is? Grissom: Urine, maybe. Game like this, leaving the table early could be perceived as a sign of weakness. Sara: Tell me they Scotchguard these things. Grissom: Why don't you tell me when you take it back to the lab and process it? Sara: Yay.

Sara: I got chocolate. Warrick: What color is it? Sara: Green ... You know what they say about the green ones.

Catherine: Birds of prey beat maggots to a body... impressive.

Grissom: You ever played poker, Warrick? Warrick: Nah. Poker's not gambling. It's playing against percentages. It's a skill. I like to play for the thrill.

Hank: Hey, guys. Warrick: Hey, Hank. Hank: Sara with you? Warrick: She's over there. (pointing behind him) Hank: Tell her I said "hi." (Grissom glances back at Hank as Warrick answers) Warrick: Will do. Hank: Thank you.

Warrick: Well, if he had those chocolates with him in '86 he's had them every night since. His lucky charm. Grissom: By my calculations he might have consumed up to a pound of chocolate a night for sixteen years. Warrick: Wow. That would explain all the lead in him. Grissom: Ultimately the tetrahydrozoline in the eyedrops triggered it, essentially it was death by chocolate.

(Nick's brother is a gearhead) Catherine: So your brother is cooler than you.

Waitress: If you want to charge me with conspiracy to make a guy crap his pants, fine, I'm guilty.