Peter Pan complex. Doyle : How do you know all that? Cordelia : Well, you've got to be rich to snag the Calvin Klein model she's leaving with. Doyle : Yeah, well, they're all riveting insights and such, but we need to find someone that's in trouble? Angel : So what are you looking for? Kate : Me? I guess it depends on how many daiquiris I've had. Wow, way to come off as a drunken slut. Cordelia wears bras! She has girl parts! I mean, you've been cooped up inside a lot. And to show my appreciation, I was thinking, the night being Cordelia : Or we can go home.
Doyle : And you can sit in the dark alone. Angel : God yes. Thank you. In the Dark [ edit ] [Angel has just saved Rachel from a violently abusive boyfriend, while Spike watches — and narrates — from the rooftop. Spike [as Angel , basso] : No need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a bad-ass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. Now I'm just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth. Never the hair! Spike [as Rachel] : But there must be some way I can show my appreciation.
Spike [as Angel] : No, helping those in need's my job. And working up a load of sexual tension and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!
Spike [as Rachel] : I understand. I have a nephew who's gay, so Spike [as Angel] : Ah. Say no more. Evil's still afoot Spike lights a cigarette.
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Play the big, strapping hero while you can. You have a few surprises coming your way—the Ring of Amarra, a visit from your old pal Spike, and—oh, yeah—your gruesome, horrible death. Angel : You might as well go home, Spike. The Gem of Amarra stays with me. Spike : Why? Because you're 'Angel, Vamp Detective' now? I'm so scared. What's next?
Vampire Cowboy? Vampire Fireman? Oh, Vampire Ballerina! Angel : I do like to work with my legs. Doyle : I'm still going to go celebrate with a drink down in the pub. Cordelia : He'd celebrate the opening of a mailbox with a drink down in the pub. You know what would feel really good right now? One of those mind-numbing, head-cracking visions that I get from time to time What, is there some trick to this?
Cordelia : [takes the aspirin bottle away from Doyle and dispenses three tablets] I think the 'trick' is laying off the ale before you start quoting Angela's Ashes and weeping like a baby-man. Doyle : Hey, that's a good book. Cordelia : So I've heard. But I doubt very much that the main characters are Betty and Barney Rubble , as you so vehemently insisted last night.
I don't think Oz appreciated being called "my little Bamm-Bamm " all night. Spike : It's called Addiction, Angel. We all have them. I believe yours is called Slutty the Vampire Slayer. I mean, do I put people off? Cordelia : Well, as vampires go, you're pretty cuddly. Maybe you might want to think about mixing up the black-on-black a little, though.
They're the law firm that Johnnie Cochran is too ethical to join. Cordelia : I know Angel's been working day and night to help people fight their personal demons, but I need a raise.
Doyle : A raise? You've been working for him for, what, like, twenty minutes?
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Cordelia : A month. And I have needs. Doyle : Needs. Cordelia : A person, needs certain Doyle : Yeah, we're standing up. Cordelia : Morning. Doyle : Morning.
What is this? Cordelia : Last week's coffee. Think of it as espresso. Angel : [supresses gag] I think my esophagus is melting. Cordelia : [to Doyle] You're a lot smarter than you look. Of course, you look like a retard. Cordelia : What is stalking today like the third most popular sport among men? Cordelia : What? Doyle : If you ever wanna, you know, spend one night away from the place?
Maybe give me a call. Cordelia : Well, stranger things have happened. No, wait—they really haven't. It's like wrestling a tiger just to get to know her.
Tell me stuff. Angel : What stuff? Doyle : About Cordelia. Angel : Well, I I know she can't type or file. Until today I had some hope regarding the phone. Doyle : Who's Aura? Angel : I think she's one of Cordelia's group. People called them the Cordettes. Bunch of girls from wealthy families. They ruled the high school, decided what was in, who was popular. It was like the Soviet Secret Police, if they cared a lot about shoes.
I tried to call Doyle—I have sunk that low—and there was no answer. So here I am. Not that you were the last resort, it's just that I had nowhere else left to go. Live ones, dead ones, all skinny feet and creepy antlers.