SIMONSON: Your hunches have backfired before, or have you forgotten that already?
With something as subjective as a "hunch," you're only as good as your last case.
MULDERIG: His brilliant hunches cost the life of a good cop.
"Hunch" seems to be a hot-word around the precinct, but is it just a romantic notion in the modern age of policing?
MULDERIG: Strictly small potatoes. You sure can pick 'em, Doyle.
Mulderig often seems like psychic challenge to Popeye's stick-to-it-ness, like a rock in his shoe.
SAL: Don't jerk me, Weinstock. I spent a lot of time setting this up.
WEINSTOCK: So what do you want, a badge?
Everyone, no matter what side they're on, is just looking for results.
WEINSTOCK: Move calmly. Move cautiously. You'll never be sorry.
Yeah, Weinstock may be doling out advice, but Sal doesn't seem like he's rushing, does he?
SIMONSON: We blew it. We blew our warrants. We blew our cover.
Like Cloudy, Simonson is the voice of reason. But unlike Cloudy, who mostly wants to make sure neither of them gets killed, the captain negotiates between the higher-ups and Popeye's berserk sense of duty to his own hunches.
SIMONSON: No collars are comin' in while you two guys are runnin' around town, jerkin' off.
Again and again, both cops and criminals are looking for the proof in the pudding. (But we wonder, what's the proof doing in that bowl of pudding?)
POPEYE: That car's dirty, Cloudy. We're going to sit here all night if we have to.
Popeye is generous with other people's time, isn't he?