Tell us about the victim.
Look! A hawk! Family of hawks. Ah, they're gone. Wow.
STSherrif Trey Hughes
Rick Loomis. Been in town five months. He's dead in his truck by the creek.
Well, maybe he died of happiness - too much natural beauty. It's the Stendhal Syndrome.
HHughes
He was shot in the head.
Oh, well. Never mind. [taking in the landscape] Beautiful!
[Agent Hightower gets out of the truck]
No, Hightower! I didn't even know you had legs.
Let's go. What were you doing back there?
Oh, gold, gold. That makes it all right, then.
You're really committed to keeping your temper contained, huh. What's up with that?
You're really committed to testing my temper, huh. What's up with that?
Idle curiosity. [Wes Atwood emerges from his store and Jane ducks down and hugs Hightower]
What - What are you doing?
I'm hiding from Wes Atwood.
Because we're gonna follow him.
Thanks for not asking questions.
Oh, no need to ask questions when you know all the answers.
[Lisbon, stuck at the office with a hurt ankle, is looking after Hightower's kids]
[Lisbon starts walking to the kitchen on her crutches]
No, no, I'm injured. Not that disabled is bad! But I'm not. I'm injured.
MMimi
You walk like disabled.
[Rigsby laughs]
Ah. Yes. Jeff, what did your dad stop doing recently?
JJeff
Uh... washing himself?
[Hightower has just shot Puttock]
You know, I should applaud your bravery but I gotta say...practically speaking, what were you thinking? You could have killed me.
I'm sorry. I got mad. I didn't know what I was thinking.
That was some good shooting though. That leg shot that took him down was very precise.
[smirks]: I was aiming for his head.
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