Jack: Alright, usual formation.
Gwen: What's the usual formation?
Gwen: How can the usual formation vary?
Private Moriarty: Who the hell are you?
Gwen: Hi. Sorry.
Sgt. Johnson: This area’s restricted.
Gwen: No, it’s alright. I’m with Special Ops. I’m Special Ops. Torchwood? I’m with Torchwood.
Sgt. Johnson: Don’t mess with me, little girl. You’re not with Torchwood. And even if you were...
Jack: You’d have put out the welcome banners. Now, first of all, she’s no little girl. From where I’m standing, all the right curves in all the right places. But she is Torchwood, we both are, and we’d appreciate it if you’d leave us to do the real work.
Jack: What do we know?
Owen: Bog standard space debris. That’s the technical term.
Owen: Make yourself useful, sweetheart, pass us the big chisel from the toolbox.
Gwen: Not "sweetheart". Gwen. One syllable, sure you can manage it.
Owen: Not "Sweet-cheeks"? "Freckles"? "New Girl"?
Gwen: It’s a shame your tool’s not big enough for the job, darling. Catch.
Gwen: What do you think has happened? I mean it was just gas, wasn't it? Can't be too bad, can it?
Owen: Right because gas never did anyone any harm.
Gwen: He just...
Jack: Came and went.
Owen: Now that's how I'd like to go.
Tosh: I'm sure we could arrange it.
Gwen: What about his family? You can’t just fake his death!
Jack: You want to tell his family he died screwing an alien?
Gwen: So what's this supposed to do?
Jack: I'm using satellite tracking data to determine the inward trajectory of the meteorite.
Tosh: He means he's trying to find out where it's come from.
Jack: Hey! Sometimes a little technobabble is good for the soul!
Gwen: So this is like a route plan.
Tosh: Not far off.
Gwen: Rhys, my boyfriend, he's a transport manager, he does this sort of stuff...on a slightly smaller scale.
Tosh: You have a boyfriend?
Gwen: Yeah. Have you?
Tosh: Don't have time with this job.
Gwen: What about you, you seeing anyone?
Owen: You've gotta be joking. I can get all the grief I need here.
Gwen: None of you have partners?
Owen: Just you, newbie.
Gwen: I'm not being rude or anything, but...Well, maybe I am, but...How do you switch off from all this stuff? What do you do to relax?
Owen: I torture people in happy relationships.
Jack: Put your trousers on and get out. NOW! It almost breaks my heart to say those words.
Jack: See what you can find out from her.
Gwen: But aren't you going to help me? I don't know what I'm doing.
Jack: It's usually better if you don't say that in front of the prisoner.
Jack: You know, strictly speaking, throttling the staff is my job.
Jack: She's a walking aphrodisiac.
Gwen: I did wonder why I...actually, I've sort of... snogged her.
Jack and Tosh: We know.
Jack: So what’s our next move?
Owen: Stop the entire city of Cardiff from shagging?
Gwen: Put bromide in the water supply?
Jack: No. Too hit and miss.
Owen: Yeah, and the water company got really pissed off the last time we did that.
Carys: (possessed by the alien) All this sex. All we see, all we think. So much beauty and so much fear. We want it but we’re so afraid.
Jack: Travel half way across the universe for the greatest sex, you still end up dying alone.
Jack: Do one thing for me. Don’t let the job consume you. You have a life. Perspective. We need that.
Gwen: Who are you, Jack?
Jack: I’m sorry?
Gwen: You can’t die. You tell me the twenty-first century’s when it all changes, that we have to be prepared.
Jack: So you do.
Gwen: But how can you know?
Jack: You think knowing the answers would make you feel better?
Gwen: Who are you? What are you doing here?
Jack: Go home, Gwen Cooper. Eat lasagna. Kiss your boyfriend. Be normal. For me.