Girl: Nice sweater. Hand-knit?
W: Certainly not by me!
G: I didn't mean . . . I mean, it's a great sweater.
W: Oh, well I'll pass that on then . . . to the person who knit it. I mean, I would if I knew who did. Which I don't. So I won't pass it on to anyone, will I?
A: ::blink::blink::blink::

Laura: So, would you like to dance?
[Visions of Angel dancing in the most hilariously goofy montage]
A: I don't dance.

[Chair pulls out]
A: Hi, Dennis. How ya doin'?
[Beer floats over and opens]
A: Still dead? ::sips:: I know the feeling.

A: Is there coffee?
C: They're still in bean form. I thought I ordered the ground. Maybe you could crush the beans with your vampire strength. Just mush the bag. Mush 'em.

A: Really, uh, fun party last night.
C: I'm so glad you came. You know how parties are. You're always worried that nobody's going to be around to suck the energy out of the room like a giant black hole of boring despair. But there you were, in the clinch!

C: You used to be a person! Did you never party? Did people not gather in olden times?
A: I talked to people -- Laura.
C: Laura thought you hated her; I had to tell her you were challenged.

A: I got two modes with people: bite and avoid. Hard to shift.

A: The quiet, reserved thing -- don't you think that makes me kind of, I don't know, cool?
C: He was cooler.
W: Good morning!
A: Now I'm depressed.

W: I don't suppose there's any leftovers lying about -- any abandoned shrimp puffs?
A: You're broke aren't you?
W: Angel, a man's finances are his own business.
A: You want a job?
W: Oh, yes, please!

C: Well, this is great! Now we're really. . . [turns to Angel] Do I have to take a pay cut?
A: [shakes his head]
C: . . . a team!

C: (to Wesley) Don't go getting all sappy. (to Angel) Hold me!
A: Look, why don't we just. . .
C: No! Hold me! [collapses]

C: Gross! Oh, Ew! Is all. Ugh.
W: What did you see?
C: I don't just see. I feel, okay? Thank you, Doyle.

W: I intend to earn my keep. Oh, in terms of this keep, by the by . . .
A: There's no dental.
W: Right, well, I'll floss.

C: All I felt was his fear -- and the exploding eyeballs. Did I mention I hate this gig?

A: Captain Inferno, I presume? That's close enough. I don't do well near an open flame.

A: I'm not a big talker; I usually let others carry the conversation. I am pretty good at putting these [indicates crowbar] through heads though.

C: There are portals now? When did they put in portals? Don't we have enough on our hands with out burning monsters fiends coming here?

W: We'll figure out who he is, where he comes from -- boss. You can count on it.
C: Wesley, *stop* kissing butt. It's not like we get overtime.
A: ::glare::
C: Oh, I'll get right on it.

A (on cell phone): Did she care for me?
C: Did she Carrie you -- Carrie. . . like the movie? You know!

A (on cell phone): I can hear you now. These things were definitely cooked up by a bored warlock.

A (on cell phone): She was very . . . attractive, for a demon.
C: A hottie, huh? I guess she's that all right. What with the sizzle.
A: The Sizzler?

A: On the left one spies the painter himself; in the middle distance is the French poet and critic Baudelaire, a friend of the artist. Now, Baudelaire -- interesting fellow. In his poem *Le Vampire* he wrote: //Thou who abruptly as knife did come to my heart.// He strongly believed that evil forces surrounded mankind. And some even speculated that the poem was about a real vampire. Oh, and Baudelaire is actually a little taller and a lot drunker than he's depicted here.

W: AHA!
C: ::gasp:: That better be an AHA! of triumph. I was dreaming there was a going-out-of-business sale at Neiman's!
W: I think I've located them - the Vygeries of Odin Tao.
C: The whodies of whatty?

A: I'm guessing the Royal family isn't loving the portal-jumping, refugee-aiding duties you've assigned yourself.

W: Now that I'm officially in Angel's employ, I feel it's doubly important to show initiative and drive. We can't just dally ab--- Look! Nancy's Petticoat!

C: I wonder how we find where they keep the compost?
W: I'd say we follow our noses.

Jhiera: How are they doing?
Guy: They're chillin'!

Guy: My shaman has a place in the desert. He never could turn away scantily clad women from any dimension.
Jhiera: ::glare::
Guy: You know, I wish you'd let me work on your mirth chakra.

W: There's no answer.
C: I bet he forgot to turn that thing on again. You'd think a guy who knows how to use an ancient Scythian short bow could figure out how to use a cell phone.

C: What are you doing? We nearly got burned from the inside out, and you're here getting all April fresh?
A: Hello?

A: Here's the plan: We go in. I start hitting people hard in the face, see where it takes us.

Guy: Welcome, bro!
A: I need to see Jhiera, now.
Guy: I'm sorry, no Jhiera here, but I already see I can help you. First, let's talk about the clothes vibe.

Guy: And which dimension are you from, brother?
A: You don't want to know.

W: My, what a grip. Very healthy. Surprisingly firm myself, under the jacket. Have a feel.
C: You're pathetic! And about to get your eyeballs fried!

Tay: You don't understand our ways, human.
A: No, I don't. ::morph:: And I'm not human.

A: Sorry! I had a little....
C: Mushing didn't work out so great, huh?

C: Wow. Groveling isn't just a way of life for you. It's an art.
W: I do not grovel. (to Angel) Please don't fire me.

W: What happened yesterday was an anomaly. I'm very rarely taken hostage.

W: I'm your faithful servant Angel.
C: Like I said, an art.

C (to Jhiera): Oh, look who's here. Can I get you something? Knife to our throat, you can run away?

Grr... aargh!