Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

It's all whispers and rumours out there, but only one thing's coming through clear,

- Giles? - Go on, then. Let's get on with the fighting.

This is Riley Finn.

- What about you? - Me?

I don't lecture from the textbook. But I'm glad she's inspired by the material.

- Do you think he's OK with it? - I'm sure he is.

Don't know why she didn't come. Say goodbye, shed a few tears...

I'm sorry, I have things to do. I'll tell Buffy her friend was looking for her.

It stole Giles' car.

There's no discipline there. Her Ioyalties are uncertain.

Maybe I want you around to split their attention.

Perhaps we should've invited Professor Walsh.

Do something. If they catch us, we'll both end up in a lab.

- Did someone...? - Oh, bugger. I thought you'd gone.

- You shouldn't have done that to the door. - I do not have time to play by the rules.

$100? You'll have to do a lot better than that.

But... Well, I'm not even sure I could take you.

I'm glad you wanted to get together. I know it's late.

Professor Walsh, I presume.

- I'm speaking English? - No, you're speaking Fyarl. I speak Fyarl.

- Who's that? - Professional bad guy.

How many hostiles would you say you've slain?

Oh, God. Giles?

"Pain as bright as steel", things like that.

Someone snuck in and left this couple of clapped-out has-beens in our place.

I've known corpses with a fresher smell. In fact, I've been one.

If I had a few bob for a room with an honour bar...

A Fyarl demon. Sort of a foot-soldier type,

Buffy, I don't want to ask you to betray any confidences,

Oh, embarrassed, mostly.

You know, that Riley is a commando and Professor Walsh is in charge...