Jim Beaver: Bobby Singer

Let It Bleed

Bobby Singer

Bobby Singer: Well, that's the bad news. Our pal Cass didn't stop in last night just to mend fences.
Dean Winchester: What did he do?
Bobby Singer: Stole something.
Dean Winchester: What?
Bobby Singer: The journal of one Moishe Campbell.
Sam Winchester: "Moishe"?
Bobby Singer: Of the New York Campbells.
Sam Winchester: Uh, so we gotta get it back, right?
Bobby Singer: Or just read the copy I already made. Hi. Glad to meet you. Bobby Singer, paranoid bastard.

Dean Winchester: All right, so, whose this Phillips guy?
Bobby Singer: Phillips isn't his last name. It's Lovecraft.
Sam Winchester: Wait. H.P. Lovecraft? Let me see that.
Dean Winchester: Am I suppose to know who that is?
Bobby Singer: Horror writer? "At the Mountains of Madness," "The Call of Cthulu."
Dean Winchester: Yeah. No. No, I'm... I was too busy having sex with women.

Judah: A-are you working on this with the other guy?
Bobby Singer: Other guy?
Judah: Yeah, uh, you know, trench coat, looks like Columbo, talks like Rain Man?
Bobby Singer: Right. W-we're... competitors. Rival magazines.

Judah: They were getting together that night to perform a ritual. Something big.
Bobby Singer: Define "big".
Judah: Not much. Just open a door into another dimension.
Bobby Singer: Why would they do that?
Judah: To see what's out there, you know. Maybe it's friendly.
Bobby Singer: It's never friendly!

Bobby Singer: You're not exactly from Milwaukee, are you?
Dr. Eleanor Visyak: Not exactly.
Bobby Singer: And not that I'd have minded, but you kind of fibbed about your age too.
Dr. Eleanor Visyak: Just slightly. Nine hundred years.

Westborough: Do you believe in monsters?
Bobby Singer: Yup.
Westborough: You know, you go saying that, they'll lock you in here rest of your life.

Bobby Singer: I hear you have a large collection of Lovecraft's private letters.
Judah: Yeah. World's largest.
Bobby Singer: Wow, you must be catnip to the ladies.
Judah: I'm in a long-term online relationship, so...