Angel

“You stake him and I’ll cut his head off.”

“Coffins. I hate that stereotype.”

“The good fight, yeah? You never know until you’ve been tested. I get that now.”

“Batten down the hatches. Here comes Hurricane Buffy.”

“You think you could say that again without so much shock in your voice? You’re steppin’ on my moment of manliness here.”

“My parents were great. Tasted a lot like chicken.”

“I’m not a snivelling, whiny, little cry-Buffy. I’m the nastiest girl in Sunnydale history. I take crap from no one.”

“No, I’m not sayin’ I’m attracted… Okay, maybe I’m a little bit attracted.”

“Say no more. Evil’s still afoot. And I’m almost out of that nancy-boy hair-gel I like so much. Quickly, to the Angelmobile, away.”

“Hey, you look troubled. Or is that just your lazy eye? Anyway, call us, we’re very discreet.”

“Los Angeles. You see it at night and it shines; a beacon. People are drawn to it. People and other things.”