W: I implore you, Neisa, blessed goddess of chance and fortune, heed my call, send to me the heart I desire.
X: You know, magic at the poker table qualifies as cheating.
W: That wasn't magic. I was praying.
A: What a stupid game. All these rules just to win little plastic discs.
X: Chips. They're called chips. They represent money, since none of us has any money to represent money.
X: Want one?
W: No, thanks. Those things usually taste kind of tasteless, then leave a bad aftertastelessness.
W: You know how it it with a spanking-new boyfriend.
A: Yes, we've enjoyed spanking.
X: < loses his cards >
X: The thing is, I think Riley's okay in an oafish kind of way, but am I the only one with a big, floating question-mark over his head about this Initiative thing?
W: They are anti-demon. But probably pro ex-demon.
A: Maybe. I choose to feel threatened.
B: How was your night?
W: Like a normal person's. Light on the action-packed.
W: Do you want to let him know you're here?
B: No. Just enjoying a good stare.
B: Tell me about your night.
W: Well, spent most of it at Xander's, teaching Anya to play poker.
B: That sounds like fun.
W: Yeah. Except the Anya part, and the poker part.
B: A twinkie? That's his lunch? Oh, he is so gonna be punished.
W: Everyone's getting a spank but me.
S: Wipe your feet when you enter a person's home.
G: Ah, yes, careless of me. Tracking mud all over your, um, mud.
S: I'll admit, it's a bit of a fixer-upper. Needs a woman's touch. Care to have a crack at it?
G: Three hundred - count it if you like.
S: I'll do that.
S: And I don't want you crawling back here knocking on my door, pleading for help the second teen witch's magic goes all wonky, or little Xander cuts a new tooth.
B: My god. You said it was big. You told me, but you never said it was huge.
R: Don't like to brag.
B: But not that I thought it was some fly-by-night operation. Unless it is. I mean, can you guys fly? At night? With those jet-pack things? Do you have those?
M: I've assembled some reading material to bring you up to speed.
B: Oh. And I thought I was never going to get homework from you again.
M: You can't take that home. That's classified material. Highly sensitive. When you're through reading those pages you'll have to eat them.
R: She's joking.
M: Don't worry - doesn't happen very often.
B: Behavior modification?
M: We've made significant advances in reconditioning the subterrestrials. Bringing them to a point where they no longer pose a threat.
B: So I've seen. < awkward pause > On the Discovery Channel. With gorillas and sharks. They made them all nice. You haven't seen it?
M: The more advanced arsenal can be complicated, but I'm certain, in time, you'll pick that up. Don't pick that up.
B: What is it?
M: About $20,000.
M: Lose either one of them, there's hell to pay, and down here, we mean that literally.
W: I've been trying to find a dolcite crystal my entire life. Well, since June, anyway.
M: Almost time to wake up, Adam, and take your first look at the world. I know you're going to make me proud.
A: Xander, you haven't been paying any attention to me tonight. Just peddling those processed food bricks. I don't know why.
X: Well, let me put it in a way you'll understand. Sell bars, make money, take Anya nice places, buy pretty things.
A: That does make sense. All right, I support you. Go sell more.
B: Hi, all. Sorry about the late-itude.
X: Late? Really? Huh - hadn't noticed.
R: Hope you don't mind us tagging along.
W: No, no, of course not. The more, the... more.
B: Anya seems a bit edgy.
W: She's a little antsy around commando-types. Ex-demon issues.
B: You said you wanted to invite someone.
W: No, not - no one. I mean, I meant a hypothetical someone, which is to say no one. What are we celebrating?
B: Professor Walsh gave me the grand tour, and we're talking grand as in canyon. You'd never believe the size of it.
W: That's really... again, I say neat.
B: Plus, boyfriend going to work with me - big extra perk.
W: There's a bunch of stuff about them we still don't know.
B: I know that. Like what?
W: Well, what's their ultimate agenda? I mean, okay, yeah, they neuter vampires and demons, but then what? Are they gonna reintegrate them into society? Get them jobs as bag-boys at Walmart?
B: Does Walmart have bag-boys?
B: Why exactly can't we damage this polka thing's arms? Not that I want to. It's just, in my experience, when fighting for your life, body parts get damaged, and better its bits than mine. Or ours.
B: What do they want?
Dr. Angleman: Want?
B: Why are they here? Sacrifices, treasure, or are they just getting rampagey?
M: You might want to be suited up for this.
B: Oh, you mean the camo and stuff? I thought about it, but on me it's gonna look all Private Benjamin. Don't worry. I've patrolled in this halter many times.
W: Irony's kind of ironic that way.
B: What do you mean she liked me before you did? You didn't like me?
F: I've always been Riley's second-in-command. Instead he picks a girl.
G: His girl.
F: Whatever. Three guesses on what that boy's thinking with.
B: So... what do you wanna do now?
G: I don't know how many more ways I can say, I'm not interested.
X: Try one. Check these flavors: Cherry Berry, Maple Walnut, ooh, Almond Licorice.
X: Anya, we don't say "Eww" in front of potential customers.
A: Just skip this part and tell him you want money to buy me pretty things. He'll understand.
G: Very well. Maple Walnut.
X: An excellent choice.
G: < takes bite, grimaces > Please leave my home now.
X: Spike? You may wanna give up these morning jogs.
S: Look, the buggers shot me, in the back.
G: Remind me, why should I help you?
S: Because you do that. You're the goody-good guys. You're the bloody freaking cavalry.
G: No, you can come up with a better answer than that. Why should I help you?
S: Oh, because I helped you. When you turned into that Fyarl demon, I helped you, didn't I?
G: And that was out of the evilness of your heart?
S: Oh, hell no. I made you pay me. < pause > You right bastard.
B: Your robot bird sounds hungry.
R: It's just a reminder to take my vitamins.
B: You're kidding. You're quite the regimental soldier.
G: It doesn't appear to be a bullet, and it's too deeply embedded to be a tranquilizer dart.
S: Also not tranquil!
G: Some sort of illumination emanating from it. It's blinking.
S: I don't care if it's playing "Rockin' the Casbah" on the bloody Jew's Harp, just get it out of me!
X: It's like a homing beacon. And if commando guys are reading the signal, they're coming home.
M: We have a reading of a class-three subterrestrial moving through sewer tunnels just on the north side of town.
M: It's a low-level threat, minimal aggression, meager defenses. They barely show up on a scanner, and occasionally turn out to be raccoons.
B: Wow. You're not crazy about raccoons, huh?
W: Did it work? The atmosphere ionized?
G: I'd venture yes.
B: Professor Walsh? That simple little recon you sent me on? Wasn't a raccoon.
X: Sure. Just explain to the nice scientist guys that you really miss killing and torturing innocent people.
S: You think that would work?
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