Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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

How many hostiles would you say you've slain?

It stole Giles' car.

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

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

Perhaps we should've invited Professor Walsh.

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

Oh, God. Giles?

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

Oh, embarrassed, mostly.

This is Riley Finn.

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

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

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

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

- Who's that? - Professional bad guy.

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

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

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

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

- What about you? - Me?

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

Professor Walsh, I presume.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe I want you around to split their attention.