RADIO BOB: All right, boss, just spoke to the onsite team. TELLER: What's the weather report? RADIO BOB: Dark skies, with a chance for thunderbolt strikes and pink mist.

TELLER: Oh, fine. MIDLAND: Tell me there is some part of you that remembers this is serious?

TELLER: Midland, look at me: I am a very smart EOD officer, and I've been doing this for a very long time. You're in good hands. MIDLAND: I know, sir, but… Well, it's tonight. And uhm… I guess I… I'd just love to do things a little bit more… by the book.

RADIO BOB: Hey boss. You guys reading me? TELLER: Copy that, support. You getting the feed from the body cams? RADIO BOB: Nice and sharp, Number One. Standing by for support.

TELLER: Midland!

SOBRERO: Kind of. It's more like… Uh, when people hear the words »bomb squad«, they, they think about what they know it in the movies. You know, like red wire, blue wire, that kind of thing. But you guys are actually cutting the wires. That's… that’s the job you do every day.

MIDLAND: And for the record? Most of the job is actually just sitting around and waiting for something. That actually doesn't happen that often.

SOBRERO: The - there's gotta be something to looking at how you deal with that level of stress and… and stay… uhm professional. Like, how you find ways to be… healthy. Normal. ⟨BEAT⟩ ⟨TELLER AND RADIO BOB START LAUGHING⟩ TELLER: Oh, that's… that's good.

TELLER: Now, if you couldn't follow any of that? Relax. Here's all you need to know: Every year in the United States, there are over three thousand bomb threats. Everything from pipe bombs and plastic explosives to L.V.B.'s and the dreaded mortar shell.

TELLER: Bob, how am I doing? RADIO BOB: Beep… Beep… Beep… Beep… MIDLAND: ⟨SIGHS⟩ TELLER: Aaaaand… RADIO BOB: Beep… Beep… Beeeeeeeeeeeep. ⟨BEAT⟩ Patient has been terminated. MIDLAND: You know, that metaphor is getting really mixed. RADIO BOB: Nicely done, boss.

SOBRERO: What did you do to your therapist?! TELLER: Stressed her out too much. But hey! Bob, you're not divorced, are you? RADIO BOB: Nah. I haven't found any dudes that can put up with my crippling gambling addiction. SOBRERO: Crippling gambling…?

TELLER: Midland and I work with Robert L. Hansen. But nobody calls him that. We just call him Radio Bob, since he's… well, the guy on the radio.

MIDLAND: ⟨SIGHS⟩ Well, with any luck, we're gonna have a quiet time tonight. We won't get any phone calls or - DISPATCH: Attention Unit 214, attention Unit 214.

MIDLAND: Ah, ‹fuck›. TELLER: Language. MIDLAND: Oh woe.

MIDLAND: Hey Bob, when are we gonna get you to put on the ol' EOD suit and disarm a device yourself? RADIO BOB: When I get as stupid as you two. All right, device is right ahead, you are cleared for final approach.

TELLER: Midland is saying he hates Christmas. RADIO BOB: What?! How can you -

RADIO BOB: At about seventeen thirty-four, a smashie was coming back from a quick ten-ninty-two, when he noticed something weird with his Andy McNab. TELLER: Which Andy McNab? RADIO BOB: That Andy McNab. Looks like suddenly there was a little extra poundage in the trunk space.

TELLER: You put a normal person in front of a bomb, and you know what they're gonna do? Aside from piss themselves? Get themselves and maybe a bunch of other people killed.

TELLER: All right, uno down! Once again: Much obliged, gentlemen, couldn't have done it without you. RADIO BOB: Hey, no problem, boss. MIDLAND: Just… glad to help. TELLER: Oh, come on, Midland. That was awesome. Lighten up and give me a high-five.

TELLER: Okay. Yeah. Sure, sure. We can go by the book tonight. Now: Do I need to go get that book and order you to give me a high-five?