Owen: Careful Gwen, this thing eats people.Jack: Which is fine, as long as she doesn't go into labour at the altar. Rhys might forgive her for going down the aisle pregnant, but not giving birth to a razor-toothed monster that eats half his family.
Ianto: Could that happen?
Tailor: Can I help you?
Ianto: I'm looking for a wedding dress for my friend.
Tailor: Of course you are, sir. You'd be surprised, we're quite used to men buying for their... "friends".
Jack: Nope, like that one. Good choice.
Ianto: I estimated Gwen's size from the Hub's security laser scans. As you know, my dad was a master tailor; he could size a man's inside leg measurement by his stride across the shop threshold.
Jack: Ah, a family eye. Remind me to test it some time.
Ianto: Well, if later on-
Owen: Jack!
Ianto: Yep. Like that one.
Gwen: [talking about getting married] It'll happen for you one day, Tosh. There's always Owen.
Tosh: I don't think so. "In sickness and in health, 'til death do us part". It's gonna sound like a bad joke.
Jack: You sure you're ready for this, Owen? You know what a Nostrovite can do; you think you've got it covered a hundred feet away, and it's already chewing on you liver.
Owen: I don't need my liver.
Jack: What's is it with you? Ever since Owen died, all you've done is agree with him!
Ianto: I was brought up not to speak ill of the dead. Even if they do still do most of their talking for themselves.
Gwen: What will you do while I'm gone?
Jack: Oooh, the usual. Pizza, Ianto, save the world a couple of times.
Ianto: That's what I love about Torchwood. By day, you're chasing the scum of the universe, come midnight you're the wedding fairy.
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