Ray: That's Lisa. She's the sort to kill you as soon as look at you.
Lisa: That's Ray. He's the sort to photobomb a wedding picture. While wearing a speedo.
----

Ray: Hey, 3G, look at this!
3G: *shrivels up into a ball* Does not that fish understand personal space?
---

Ray: Remember: if we encounter Spock, he's mine.
Lisa: My little Ray clone is growing up. He actually wants to kill something. I just didn't expect you to have such a hatred of Vulcans.
Ray: Kill? Pffft. I just want to see if I can get him caught in a logic loop.
---

3G: Greetings, humanoid creature. You do not know me, but I reside in the universe next door. Would you, perchance, have three spare space suits I could borrow? My friends and I need them to successfully procure a missile with a nuclear warhead.
Random Enterprise Crewman: *looks at Ray and 3G in stunned bewilderment*
Ray: Hi, there! Just a random hallucination waltzing through. Between you, me, and your conscience, you really need to stop huffing paint fumes on your downtime.
---

3G: Cocoa?
---

Ray: If everybody had an ocean-- Across the U.S.A.-- Then everybody'd be surfing-- Like California!!
Lisa: Stop hanging ten off the nuke!
---

Ray: Speedy thing goes in; speedy thing comes out. It's not like this is rocket science.
3G: Actually, when one considers that we are attempting to slingshot a nuclear missile across multiple dimensions at the proper angle and velocity to intercept one single meteor before it deposits the Thing upon my homeworld... one could say that, yes, this is rocket science.
---