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Officer Chris Thormann: [Inside the squadroom, Munch relights the candle. Thormann, wearing a tuxedo, walks over to him] What do you do that for, every night?

John Munch: [sounding surprised and slightly annoyed] What's with you?

Officer Chris Thormann: I gotta go to a wedding.

John Munch: At this hour?

Officer Chris Thormann: It's a long story. The wedding's in Connecticut - Old Saybrook. Eva and I are driving up.

John Munch: Oh.

Officer Chris Thormann: I know you're the one who lights the candle.

John Munch: Yeah...

Officer Chris Thormann: So, why?

John Munch: [sounding rather sad] ... It's for all the ones who've been killed.

Officer Chris Thormann: [surprised by Munch's attitude, considering he is usually just a cynical jerk] Uh huh...?

John Munch: What I don't know is, who lit it when I was gone?

Officer Chris Thormann: I did.

John Munch: You?

Officer Chris Thormann: Yeah.

John Munch: Why?

Officer Chris Thormann: I figured it was important to you.

John Munch: It's gonna be our little secret, okay?

Officer Chris Thormann: Yeah, sure, okay.

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Det. Beau Felton: Every night someone lights this candle by the board.

Lt. Al 'Gee' Giardello: You're a detective. Solve it.

Det. Beau Felton: A homicide detective. If the candle killed someone, I'd close the case.

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Det. Stan Bolander: I know what to do with a dead body. I do *not* know what to do with a live baby.

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Det. Frank Pembleton: You said summer was hell.

Det. Tim Bayliss: Well... it was.

Det. Frank Pembleton: It's all mind over matter, Bayliss.

Det. Tim Bayliss: No, no, it's more than mind over matter. I know my mind and my mind remembers my ass melting into the tops of my shoes, all right? Summer was hell.

Det. Frank Pembleton: There's no humidity in hell.

Det. Tim Bayliss: What, you do a field report?

Det. Frank Pembleton: By all reliable accounts, there's not a single drop of water to pass between heaven and hell. Hell is a dry heat.

Det. Tim Bayliss: Oh. Well, book me a flight.

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