Dexter's Lab Quotes

Vince and I had reached the point where there was nothing else we could think of to do with the taco wrapper, and since he refused to draw straws for the privilege of telling Deborah, I'd been forced to make the call to give her the news that we'd come up blank. And three minutes later, here she was, striding into our lab like avenging fury. "Goddamn it," she said before she was even all the way in the room, "I need something from you!" "Maybe a sedative?" Vince suggested, and for once I thought he was right on the money.

I finally gave up and blotted my shirt dry the best I could. I left the restroom wearing my semi-wet stained shirt and headed for the lab, hoping I might get some sartorial sympathy from Vince Masuoka.

I watched Rita for a moment as she swept up the mess. Her cheeks were bright red and she avoided looking at me. I had the very strong impression that something was not right, but no matter how hard I gawked and blinked I got no clue to what it was. I suppose I was hoping that by staring long enough I might get some indication of what had just happened—perhaps subtitles would appear, or a man in a lab coat would hand me a pamphlet explaining things in eight languages, possibly with diagrams. But no such luck; Rita remained hunched over, blushing and sweeping shards of glass through the puddle of wine and into the dustpan, and I still had no idea why she, and everyone else, was acting so strangely today. So

By noon, we had run almost every test we could do in our own small lab, and found one or two useless things. First, the basic broth was made from one of the commercially popular high-octane energy drinks. Human blood had been added in and, although it was difficult to be absolutely certain using the small and badly degraded sample, I was reasonably sure it had come from several sources. But the last ingredient, the organic something, remained elusive. “Okay,” I said at last. “Let’s go at this a different way.” “What,” Vince said, “with a Ouija board?” “Almost,” I said. “How about we try inductive logic?” “Okay, Sherlock,” he said. “More fun than gas chromatography any day.” “Eating your fellow humans is not natural,” I said, trying to put myself into the mind of someone at the party, but Vince interrupted my slow-forming trance. “What,” he said, “are you kidding? Didn’t you read any history at all? Cannibalism is the most natural thing in the world.” “Not in twenty-first-century Miami,” I said. “No matter what they say in the Enquirer.” “Still,” he said, “it’s just a cultural thing.” “Exactly,” I said. “We have a huge cultural taboo against it that you would have to overcome somehow.” “Well, you got ’em drinking blood, so the next step isn’t that big.

Psychopaths are rats in the lab, Psychopaths don't have conscious... What next??? - (Dexter Series season 8 episode 3...)

LISTEN,” ROBERT CHASE SAID TO ME AS WE WALKED DOWN THE hall together toward my lab. “We need to get a few ground rules straight, all right?” I looked at him, seeing only his profile, since he was staring straight ahead through his sunglasses. “Rules?” I said. “What do you mean?” He stopped walking and turned to face me. “It’s Derrick, right?” he said, holding out a hand. “Dexter,” I said. “Dexter Morgan.” I shook his hand. It was soft, but his grip was firm. “Right. Dexter,” he said. “And I’m Robert. Okay? Just Robert.” He held up a warning finger. “Not Bob,” he said. “Of course not,” I said. He nodded as if I had said something thoughtful and continued walking down the hall. “Okay,” he said, holding up the palm of his hand and waving it. “I’m just a regular guy. I like the same things you like.” That

I went on into the lab. Robert and Renny were both there, standing uncertainly together and looking as if they didn’t quite know what their characters would do when the eye-fucker struck again, and didn’t really want to hear anybody tell them. I told them anyway. “Let’s go,” I said. They both blinked at me like uncertain owls. “Go?” Robert said. Renny licked his lips. “Crime scene,” I said. “Nothing like it for learning about crime scenes.” They looked at each other like they were both hoping the other would come up with a really good way to suggest we go for coffee instead, but neither of them did, and so we followed Vince downstairs and out of the building.

I did not, however, arrive at any such destination for the next few days, no matter how much I put my cerebral racehorse through its paces. If I could only get hold of the forensic evidence from the assorted killings I was charged with, I knew I could assemble a compelling case for my innocence. A significant part of my job had been testifying in court, and hard experience had taught me how to make dry facts come to life for a judge and jury. It was usually fun, since it was in truth no more than dramatizing things a bit. Over the years I had become quite good at taking an array of somewhat gooey facts and teaching them to sing and dance in a courtroom. Of course, it was probable that Anderson had been sticking his huge and grimy fingers into the forensic evidence, too. But it was just as likely that he had missed something important—or left such huge fingerprints on everything that I could hoist him with the petard of his own evidence tampering. Whatever the case, I was absolutely certain I could find something to work with—if I could just get back to my lab….

Setup: Alicia (the scientist) is speaking to an elementary school class about what she does. She’s just taken scads of questions from several young boys. The teachers says, “Maybe you could talk for a little bit about what it’s like to be a women in science……for the girls.” And I just got so sad. What the hell am I supposed to say? When I’m doing science my gender isn’t interesting to me. The science I’m doing is interesting. And okay, there was a past when women in science were anomalies but that was a dark and ridiculous time. We live in the future now. Can we just agree I can talk about gravitation without having to point out the existence of my vagina before I begin? It’s all so trivial. I half-way feel like I wasted my time going out there. I could have spent that time in the lab. We could have sent the possessor of a penis out there to handle the PR while I got some serious work done.