Peter Bishop: He was awake until five in the morning reciting the chemical compositions of his favorite beverages to me. That was right after he finished lecturing me on how I'd squandered my above-average intellect and my substantial education. All while he was standing there naked, because he prefers the breeze.
Olivia Dunham: He would rather go back to St. Claire's than work here without you. He said that more than once.
Peter Bishop: Was he wearing clothes at the time?
Olivia Dunham: Your credentials have been approved. Civilian consultant to the Department of Homeland Security.
Peter Bishop: Does this mean I don't need an escort to come into the Federal Building anymore?
Olivia Dunham: Yeah.
Peter Bishop: Will it get me out of speeding tickets?
Olivia Dunham: Maybe.
[into his cell phone, when the cylinder has appeared]
The Observer: It has arrived.
Peter Bishop: [to The Observer] Who the hell are you? What *is* the cylinder?
The Observer: Do you really know my father? Did you talk to him this afternoon? Are you his friend?
[the Observer raises a gun at Peter and pulls the trigger. Peter groans and falls, but there was no muzzle flash or normal gunshot noise]