Season One

City Of...

And you know, they asked me to come in and read a *third* time. I'm an actress! I don't put up with things like that!

Cordelia: So, um, are you still.... "GRRR"?
Angel: Yeah, there's not actually a cure for that.

Cordelia: Well, I better get mingling. I really should be talking to people that *are* somebody. But it was fun!
Angel: It's nice that she's grown as a person.

I am somebody. I matter. People will be attracted to my positive energy and help me achieve my goals. I'm right where I'm supposed to be and not dying for something to eat!

Margo: Guess who saw my videotape of the party and guess who wants to meet you?
Cordelia: A director? A manager? An assistant to an assistant who wants to spring for lunch?

Cordelia: Wow, what a nice place. I love your curtains. Not afraid to emphasize the curtains.
Russell: I have old fashioned taste.
Cordelia: I grew up in a nice home. It wasn't like this, but we did have a room or two that we didn't even know what they were for. 'Til the IRS got all huffy about my parents not paying their taxes for, well, ever.

The hands in the Liqui-Gel commercial were almost mine by, like, one or two girls.

Cordelia: Oh god. I'm sorry. I'm getting all weepy in front of you. I probably look really scary. I finally get invited to a nice place with... no mirrors... and .... lots of curtains.... Hey, you're a vampire!
Russell: What? No I'm not.
Cordelia: Are too.
Russell: I don't know what you're talking about.
Cordelia: I'm from Sunnydale. We have our own Hellmouth! I think I know a vampire when I ... am... alone with him in his fortress like home, and you know I think I'm just feeling a little light-headed from hunger. I'm just wacky! And kidding!

(about Angel) You don't know who he is, do you? Oh boy, you're about to get your ass kicked!

Finally! I thought I was going to faint while barfing!

Cockroach. In the corner. I say it's a bantam weight!

Cordelia: I was just saying that if we're going to be helping people out, maybe a small charge. A fee. You know, something to help pay the rent. And.... my salary. You need someone to organize things and you're not exactly rolling in it "Mr. I-Was-Alive-for-200-Years-and-Never-Developed-an-Investment-Portfolio."
Angel: You want to charge people?
Cordelia: Well not everybody, but sooner or later we are going to have to help some rich people, right?

Of course this is just temporary, until my inevitable stardom takes effect!

Lonely Hearts

Angel: There's our number.... it's right next to a, um, a butterfly?
Doyle: It's obviously not a butterfly you idiot, it's a, uh... bird. No, wait, no it's an owl! A bird that hunts at night! Brilliant! It's a ....
Cordelia: It's an angel!

Hi! If you're in trouble just call this number. We can help. Hi! Being harassed by someone or something? Dial us up, day or night. Hey, you look troubled, or is that just your lazy eye? Anyway, call us, we're very discreet.

Doyle: This isn't a marketing seminar, princess. You know, we need to operate a little bit more below radar.
Cordelia: What radar?
Doyle: The police. You know the service our friend Angel provides? Might put someone in mind to the V word.
Cordelia: Vampire?
Doyle: No, vigilante.

Cordelia: What's with those vision things of yours?
Doyle: Well, they're messages I get, from the higher powers, whoever they are. You know, it's my gift.
Cordelia: If that was my gift, I'd return it.

Cordelia: Plus, your visions are kind of lame. A bar? That's nice and vague. I mean, they should send you one of those self-destructing tapes, you know, that comes with a dossier?
Doyle: Well, I'll be sure to mention it.

Angel: This socializing thing is brutal. I mean I was young once. I used to go to bars. It was never like this.
Doyle: No, you used to go to taverns, man. Small towns, everybody used to know each other.
Cordelia: Yeah, like high school. It's easy to date there. We all had so much in common. Being monster food every other week for instance.

Cordelia: I guess the single life is particularly tough on you.
Angel: Why?
Cordelia: Well, a couple hundred years ago, the only thing you had to worry about was a hangover. Today, because of your curse thingy, you can't sleep with anyone or else you might feel a moment of true happiness and lose your soul, become evil -- again -- and kill everyone.
Angel: Thanks Cordelia. I always appreciate your perspective.

Hey, the last thing I want is to show up at the office and find that I'm working for a homicidal monster.

Cordelia: Okay, I'm in the newsgroup search engine. Now, what's the name of the place again?
Angel: D'Oblique. Capital D, apostrophe, capital O-b-l-i....
Cordelia: Not so fast. Okay. Capital 'D'.... apostrophe... apostrophe... Oh! I got it. Now, what comes next again?

Angel: How'd you pick up computer skills?
Cordelia: Downloading pictures of naked women?
Doyle: Well that's more or less accurate.

Cordelia: Demons. Is there anything more disgusting?
Doyle: You think so?
Cordelia: Come on. Look at this one. This demon wears a wreath of intestines around its head. I mean, honestly, what kind of statement is this thing trying to make?

I've known a lot of demons, and slime aside, not a lot going on there.

Cordelia: That is so high school. Cordelia wears bras. Ooooh, she has girl parts.
Doyle: I think it's refreshing to see a woman living like this. It means you're not so uptight. You live for the moment. (Steps in a dirty cereal bowl) You're disgusting.

Cordelia: You promise you'll stay good?
Angel: Cordelia....
Cordelia: I'm kidding, come in.

Angel: You actually live here?
Cordelia: Yes, okay? Is it my fault that maid service was interrupted? It was supposed to go home, hotel, hotel, husband. Now, can we move on?

Angel: It's a burrower.
Cordelia: It's a donkey? We didn't see any donkey demons.

Cordelia: It's a parasite, moves from body to body, and when it starts to move from one to the next, not gonna gag here, but the first one goes gerpluey pretty fast.
Doyle: Yup, curdles like cream on a hot day.
Cordelia: Uh, I believe I covered that with nondairy gerpluey.

Doyle: Who you calling?
Angel: Kate.
Cordelia: Cagney and Lacey Kate?

In The Dark

This is so awesome! Our first walk-in client. Everything is going according to plan! See girl in distress. See Angel save girl from druggie stalker boyfriend. See boyfriend go to jail. And see..... invoice! Ta-Da!

Cordelia: She has to pay. Invoice! That's the rule of our whole, like, society!
Doyle: Defaulting? It's another popular rule in society. Especially with the down-and-outs. Not that I've perpetrated said heinousness myself.

Doyle: All I'm saying is, if you and I ever hope to take that cruise to the Bahamas together, we're going to need a lot more clients with means.
Cordelia: And an alternate reality in which you're Matthew McConaughey.

Oz: Hello, L.A.
Cordelia: Oz? Oh my god. Oz! I am so happy to see you! Good old Oz! Oz. Oz!
Doyle: Let me just take a stab at this, but... you'd be Oz?
Oz: Good guess.

Cordelia: This is so cool! I mean, here you are, in L.A., and you're the total embodiment of all things Sunnydale!
Oz: Well, it's a burden, but I manage.

Cordelia: Okay, we have serious catching up to do. How's everything? How's... how's the Bronze?
Oz: The same.
Cordelia: And the gang?
Oz: They're good.
Cordelia: Good? Good. Good.
Oz: Are we done?
Cordelia: Completely.

This is Doyle. He, air quote, works here.

Oz: You guys are, like, detectives?
Cordelia: No. I'm an actress.
Doyle: And quite a captivating one at that.
Cordelia: And between my many gigs, I sometimes choose to help Angel.
Doyle: He's the detective.
Oz: Does he have a hat and gun?
Cordelia: Just fangs.
Oz: Well, that works.

Cordelia: Hey, Buffy. How is good old Buffy anyway?
Oz: She's....
Cordelia: What? Still the brave little Slayer? Or is she moping around in the dark like . . . . nobody around here. Hmm-mmm.

Okay, you're getting weird with this ring. Since when did you get all Versace about accessorizing?

And she didn't even send a note? Wow, that's really. . . . this is one of those times when I should shy away from the topic, isn't it?

Doyle: Okay, you have it your way, but I'm still going to celebrate with a drink down at the pub.
Cordelia: He'd celebrate the opening of a mailbox with a drink down at the pub.

Doyle: You know what'd feel really good right now? One of those mind-numbing, head-cracking visions that I get from time to time. Because that'd really kill me. What, is there some kind of trick to this?
Cordelia: 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. Also, I don't think Oz appreciated being called My Little Bam Bam all night.

Spike: Cordelia. You look smashing. You lose weight?
Cordelia: Yes! You know, there's this great gym on.... hey!

Cordelia: Frankie Tripod? Oh, I get it. Some kind of three-legged monster, right?
Doyle: No, he's human.
Cordelia: Then what's his name supposed to.... oh.

Cordelia: I couldn't get comfortable here if the floor was lined with mink. I mean, how can you live like this?
Doyle: Well, I didn't until last week, and I saw what you did with your place? Then I just had to call my decorator.

Doyle: So what about this Spike? Is he as bad as all that? Should I be sweating?
Cordelia: No, he's not so...... [sigh] Sweat.

Cordelia: Oh! And this one time, he and Dru raised this demon that burned people alive from the inside. It was this whole weird thing with an arm in a box.
Doyle: An arm in a box?

Cordelia: When you're through giving the place the full Johnny Depp-over, I hope you have the cash to pay for all this.
Spike: Cordelia, love the hair.
Cordelia: Wish I could say the same to you.

Cordelia: I don't trust you.
Spike: To coin a popular Sunnydale phrase: Duh!

It's not in the freezer, and it's not in the toilet tank. In the movies, it's always in one of those places.

This is not a needle in a haystack. This is a needle in Kansas.

Cordelia: How'd you do that?
Doyle: Well, you gotta get lucky sometimes.
Cordelia: I could hug you! [look] Not that lucky.

It's daylight, and you're ringless. Unless you're changing the act to Human Torch, I don't think so!

I Fall To Pieces

Cordelia: What am I missing?
Doyle: Not a thing I can see.

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, 20 minutes?
Cordelia: A month. And I have needs.
Doyle: Needs?
Cordelia: A person... needs... certain... designer... things.
Doyle: Personally, I don't think you need much in the way of clothes.

Cordelia: We're going to stand up to him.
Doyle: We're standing up.
Cordelia: Just as soon as he's had his coffee.

Angel: I'm not comfortable asking people for money.
Cordelia: Then get over it! I mean that in sensitive way.

Angel: Am I intimidating? 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 look.

You're a lot smarter than you look. Of course, you look like a retard.

Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless.

Cordelia: She's coming in.
Angel: I gotta change my shirt.

He helped you; you felt obligated. Plus... a doctor.

Angel: We're gonna help you.
Cordelia: Big time. And for a reasonable fee!

Cordelia: Not everything has to be creepy and supernatural, you know.
Angel: Not everything, but Doyle had a vision.
Cordelia: Which last time led to a sex-changing, body-switching, tear-out-your-innards demon, right. I guess they don't call you for the everyday cases.

Okay, flesh. Anytime you want to stop crawling is okay with me.

Nurse: Another article about Meltzer, huh?
Cordelia: Well, our readers at the, uh, Journal of Diagnostic Orthop--etcetera seem endlessly fascinated by him.

Nurse: When you sever a limb, you only have so much time to re-attach before it atrophies.
Cordelia: Yuck!

So, he's good at the cutting and the sewing.... He ever strike you as a big dangerous creep?

This guy has a lot to lose. What is it about Melissa that's got him going all O.J. here?

Ugh! What a fun date you must have been back in your Bad Vamp Days. On the other hand, it should give you some insight into the jerks of the world.

Cordelia: Did you steal this book?
Angel: Yeah.
Cordelia: Good.

Cordelia: You should listen to him, Melissa. He knows what he's talking about. He has stalked plenty of... (Angel glares at her) Books ... on the subject.

Steel boxes? Why would you want.... oh. For packing up people parts. You know, this job. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful to have it, god knows it's educational and all, but sometimes....

Cordelia: It's the special line.
Angel: Answer it.
Cordelia: Right, right, okay. Now who are we again?

Cordelia: What did you put in her tea?
Doyle: Enough whiskey to drop my Aunt Judy. And that woman had some girth.
Cordelia: [sigh] What's the point?
Doyle: Well, it tastes good, and it relaxes you.
Cordelia: No, I mean of ever going out with anyone.
Doyle: Well, people need people. And people who need people ... are the luckiest p-
Cordelia: Either you like them, and they don't like you. Or you can't stand them, which just guarantees that they're going to hover around and never go away.
Doyle: I hate guys like that.

It's just so unfair. I mean, this poor girl, she hooks up with a *doctor*. That should be a good thing. You should be able to call home and say "Mom, guess what? I met a *doctor*" not "Guess what I met a psycho who's stalking me, and oh, by the way, his hands and feet come off, and he's not even in the circus."

Cordelia: What if Angel doesn't come back?
Doyle: Ah, he'll be back.
Cordelia: What if Dr. Chopped Salad shows up before he does?

Oh goody, recycled coffee. My personal favorite.

See? You can save a damsel *and* make decent money. Is this a great country or *what*!?

Cordelia: We need more of these.
Doyle: We'll have more soon enough.
Cordelia: Well, we need them now. Have a vision.
Doyle: I just can't perform on demand.
Cordelia: We need the clients. Have a vision.
Doyle: That money's corrupted you.
Cordelia: If I hit you in the head, will you have a vision?
Doyle: Get away from me -- you're insane!

Rm W/A Vu

It was a great audition. I was all about things leaking. How could they not pick me?

They gave it to a blonde who showed up in a skin-tight leather catsuit. She's supposed to be a housewife! She looked like catwoman taking out the cat trash!

She's just going to ask me about where I'm living and how the acting's going . I'm just not up for leading the pain parade.

Doyle: If you ever want to, 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.

Don't even look at me. I am such a mess. I am the lowest of the lowest, and you're going to want to get my other suitcase out in the hall there.

My apartment. It's like the barrio or the projects or whatever. And I live there! I am a girl from the projects!

Get this, I tried to call Doyle--I sunk that low--and there was no answer. So, here I am. Not that you were a last resorts, just that I had nowhere else to go.

Cordelia: Roaches! Live ones. Dead ones. All skinny feet and creepy antlers!
Angel: Antlers?
Cordelia: Oh my god, I wonder how many stowed away in that bag! Also, the water is all brown and spurty and not hot! I am dying for a shower. I actually smell. Smell me. I never smell. I didn't know I could. I'm just going to have to stay here until I find a decent place, however long that takes. And when I do you're completely invited over. Hey, you can just dump my stuff on your couch, or let me have the bed, whatever you feel good about. Also, my suitcase is still out in the hall.

Your shower's in here right? Do you have mousse? [looks at him] Of course you do.

Cordelia: You ever get that feeling like you just can't shower enough. Like something's happened and you'll never be clean?
Angel: You got peanut butter on the bed.

Cordelia: Angel, at some point in recent history *you* got peanut butter on the bed. And it's gross. I think you're going to have to change your sheets.
Angel: I don't eat.
Cordelia: Well then I don't even want to know how it got there.

Doyle: Hey, Cordy, you're looking great, by the way.
Cordelia: I wouldn't know, man doesn't have a mirror. Like it would kill him to not see himself.

Cordelia: Yesterday, your cousin called, with one of those names from your part of England.
Doyle: My part of England?
Cordelia: Connor or Fergus...

Doyle: Your high school diploma's all burned.
Cordelia: Yeah. It was a rough ceremony.

Yup. There it is. My whole life, pre-here. Five trophies with some of the shiny worn off.

Doyle: I wish you'd just let me call my guy.
Cordelia: I'm not getting an apartment through "some guy." He probably judges the property value on how far the bus ride is to the track.

Doyle: Well, it can't get any worse than this, can it?
C: You can't tell anything from the hallway.
D: Hey, you're right! You know what I smell in here? Potential.
Cordelia: The next one will be better.

Hippy Guy: It's like a community, you know. We share all the upkeep and chores.
Cordelia: And my urination just hasn't been public enough lately.
Hippy Guy: Oh we don't believe in barriers. It's the first rule of the Great Leader. You can come to meetings if you want. Every morning at 5.
Cordelia: Okay, that's just a touch to early for me.
Hippy Guy: Oh you'll be up. The chanting starts at 4.

Cordelia: Oh my gosh. Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?
Doyle: [looking at Cordy with googly eyes] Nope. Never.

It's amazing in there. What's wrong with it!?

Realtor: Do you think you want it?
Cordelia: I... I used to have this. I was...
Realtor: I guess it's your lucky day.
Cordelia: I used to have those, too.

Cordelia: First thing, I hire someone to take out that wall.
Doyle: I thought you said it was perfect?
Cordelia: Yes! And part of it being perfect is there being one *tiny* flaw for me to fix.
Doyle: Ah, must be why you find me so fascinating.

[bed rises into the air] I knew this was too good to be true. I just knew it. I'm from Sunnydale! You're not scaring me you know!

You know what? I get it. You're a ghost. You're dead! Big accomplishment! Move on! You see a light anywhere? Go towards it!

Whoo! Cold wind! Scary. What're you gonna do? Chap me to death?

Cordelia: Oh that's right, you can't come in.
Angel: [Walks in]
Cordelia: Wait, what about the rule?
Angel: You said when you got a place I was completely invited over.
Cordelia: What? I didn't even have a place then!

Angel: This is nice. How about a tour?
Cordelia: Uh huh, this is the kitchen, living room, I'm gonna knock out that wall, and that's about it. Hey, thanks for the cactus.

It's a very, very bad trophy.

Cordelia: I am not giving up this apartment.
Angel: It's haunted.
Cordelia: It's rent controlled!

Doyle: Cordy, it says Die.
Cordelia: Hey, maybe it's not done yet. Maybe it's "diet"! That's friendly, a little judgmental, sure.

Cordelia: Listen, Casper! You haven't won yet. I'll die before I give up this apartment! I'll die!
Maude: All right, dear. If that's what you think is best.

Cordelia: This apartment! I could be me again. Punishment over. It's like, welcome back to your life! Like, I couldn't be *that* awful if I get to have a place like that. It's just like you. Angel: Working for redemption.
Cordelia: Um, I meant because you used to have that mansion.

This is easy. Little old lady ghost. Probably hanging around because she thinks she left the iron on.

Oh goody, another of Doyle's guys. Tell me, is this the same guy that helped me find my poltergeistilicious apartment?

Little old lady ghosts.... how come Patrick Swayze's never dead when you need him?

Cordelia: My name's Cordelia.
Maude: Well that's the name of a cheap, small town tramp trying to sound better than she is!

I'm not a sniveling, whining little cry-Buffy. I'm the nastiest girl in Sunnydale history. I take crap from no one!

Back off Polygrip!! You think you're bad? All mean and haunty? Picking on poor pathetic Cordy. Well, get ready to haul your wrinkly translucent ass outta this place, 'cause lady.... the Bitch is back.

Maude: Do you think I'm going to take that from trash like you?
Cordelia: I'll tell you what I think. I think you're going to pack your little ghost bags and get the hell out of MY HOUSE!!!

Doyle: You did it.
Cordelia: Yeah, well, she pissed me off.

I knew I didn't like that wall.

[on the phone] Yeah, I have a roommate, but it's cool. I never see him. [The root beer moves] Hey, hey, phantom Dennis. Put that back! [He does] Back on the phone] All in all, it's working out great. [TV turns on] Dennis! When I'm on the phone, that's quiet time. [TV turns off] Thanks!

Sense and Sensitivity

Cordelia: Okay. Am I wrong in thinking that a please and thank you is generally considered good form when requesting a dismemberment?!
Doyle: Well, he appreciates us in his own . . . unappreciative way.

You know what I think? I think he uses his tortured, creature of the night status as a license to be rude and insensitive. Sure, he's polite to the helpless and the downtrodden. But he ignores the people who are close to him, the people who matter the most, you know? Can you say clueless?

Does giant tentacle spew come out with dry cleaning?

Angel: Cordelia, you need to...
Cordelia: No! I don't care what horrible thing is about to happen -- asteroids are hurtling towards Earth, unspeakable evil is rising in the San Fernando Valley, Jar Jar is getting his own talk show, whatever -- I don't want to hear about it. Not 'til you ask us how it went.
Angel: ... call your mother back.

You do remember leaving us in the sewer with a giant calamari?

Angel: So there is a point?
Cordelia: Being that it is possible to brood *and* show a little interest in the feelings of others.
Doyle: Oh, she thinks you're insensitive and, not to bring up the irony, but consider the source.
Angel: So I'm a little reserved, doesn't mean I don't care.
Cordelia: It's as if you don't have a pulse.
Angel: I don't.

Mr. And Mrs. Spock need to mind meld now.

Angel: What've you got?
Cordelia: The weebies.

Cordelia: You've got pensive face.
Angel: I've always got pensive face.
Cordelia: Pensiv-er face.

Cordelia: Mmm-hmmm!
Angel: What?
Cordelia: Nothing! I just find it endlessly fascinating how your instincts are so highly attuned when it comes to boring old evil, but you have yet to make any mention of these new shoes. Angel: Look, Cordelia. Women's shoes. . . men. . . they just don't. . . .
Doyle: Great shoes! New?

All right, I'm here. What's the big emergency? These middle of the night hours are really eating into my potential social life. Why I ever thought it was a nifty idea to work for a vamp-triloquist. Hi!

Cordelia: What's her deal? To much, uh...[makes a drinking action]
Doyle: Thumb sucking?
Cordelia: Alcohol!
Doyle: Don't look at me like that. I'm not the one who needs to brush up on her finger pantomime.

Kate: Look at Doyle. Really look at him. What do you really see?
Cordelia: A bad double polyblend?
Kate: That's defense, Cordelia. Maybe you should try to open your heart to a new possibility.
Doyle: Hey, you know, she's starting to make some sen--
Cordelia: Angel!

I'm so glad we came down here to watch Late Night with Creepy Cop Lady.

Can we get you some coffee? Or valium? Or both?

Angel: Okay, I think someone needs a hug!
Cordelia: Uh, ew! Ew!

He put the whammy on you! You stink of whammy!

Angel: The talking stick is cursed all right.
Cordelia: There's a stick that talks?

Angel: It'll wear off.
Cordelia: Soon?!

Doyle: Angel, come on. You've got to snap out of this.
Cordelia: Right now. It's time for you to get all vampy and... GRRR! Kate needs you!
Angel: I don't want to. You both withdraw when I go vamp. I feel you judge me.
Cordelia: We won't judge you. Will we? Give it a try.
Angel: Closeness is too important to me right now.

Cordelia: We need a rock.
Angel: I can't say that I'm very comfortable with all this.
Cordelia: Don't argue. This is the only way in.

Cordelia: Aim for the window.
Doyle: I was!
Cordelia: Give me that. [Does it first time]
Doyle: Nice arm.

Cordelia: Would you come on!
Angel: What's the magic word?
Cordelia: Ugh!
Angel: No, I don't think "Ugh" is the magic word, if one would call it a word and even then certainly not a magic one.
Cordelia: We don't have time for this.
Angel: There's always time to be considerate of others, Cordelia.
Cordelia: Oh please.
Angel: See, wasn't so hard, now, was it?

Anyone for vomit?

The Bachelor Party

Doyle: I can't just sit around here while...
Cordelia: While I steal into the night with my incredibly more wealthy than you prince?

If I'm not here in the morning, you can just clear out my desk. I'll be moving on up.

Pierce: I'm sorry you're not feeling well. I was hoping we could make a night of it.
Cordelia: Me, too. I really wanted to hear the end of the story about the pigs and beans.

Cordelia: You were so . . . brave.
Doyle: You think you could say that again without so much shock in your voice? You're steppin' on my moment of manliness here.

Cordelia: I'm just. . .
Doyle: Surprised?
Cordelia: Grateful.

Cordelia: So here I am at Le Petit Renard with Mr. Armani, who could keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life . . . Angel: Blue boxes?
Cordelia: Tiffany's! God!

All I can think of is if this wimp saw a monster, he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel. Turns out the shoe part was giving him too much credit.

All of a sudden rich and handsome isn't enough for me. Now I expect a guy to be all brave and interesting. And it's your fault! Both of you!

As if I wasn't confused enough, then Doyle comes along and rescues me like some . . . badly dressed super hero.

Cordelia: You know, the first thing he asked? "Are you okay?" I mean, that's like . . . substance, right?
Angel: There's definitely more to Doyle than meets the eye.
Cordelia: So I've got to kill myself. I swore when I went down this road with Xander Harris, I'd rather be dead than date a fixer-upper again.

Maybe Doyle does have hidden depths. I mean, really *really* hidden. But depths. And I'm gonna have to buy him a mochaccino for saving my life.

Doyle: Hey! I was just . . . that wasn't . . .
Cordelia: An incredible spaz attack?

Cordelia: I was thinking that maybe I haven't been entirely fair to you. Maybe you don't actually have *zero* potential.
Doyle: Wow, Cordelia. Thanks.

Cordelia: Who's Francis?
Doyle: That would be me. Alan Francis Doyle. Cordelia, this is Harriet. My wife.

Harry: Richard wanted some time alone with Doyle to invite him to his bachelor party.
Cordelia: Bachelor party? Why? Was he afraid he ordered too much beer?

Harry: Sometimes I felt like I was one of his students.
Cordelia: That's funny. For a moment, I thought you said one of Doyle's students.
Harry: It wasn't fun being treated like a third grader, believe me.
Cordelia: Grade third taught Doyle?! [pause] Doyle taught third grade?!
Harry: Yeah.
Cordelia: Are you sure he wasn't just held back and used that as a cover story?

Harry: Francis got his teaching credentials before we even met at the Food Bank.
Cordelia: Okay, soup kitchen. Now that sounds more like the Doyle I've grown to know and revile. You're about to tell me he ran it, aren't you?
Harry: He was just a volunteer. That's when he got the idea for the whole We Are the World thing. I'm kidding about that part.

Angel: Where are you?
Cordelia: In the netherworld known as the 818 area code.

Well you shouldn't be trying to eat my friend's brains, you horrible ugly demon people!

Well, someone has to go out there and cheer him up. (Angel start to stand up) Oh please. Someone with a heart beat.

Cordelia: Hi Doyle. Are you gonna become loser pining guy, like, full time? 'Cause we already have one of those around the office.
Angel: Hey!
Doyle: Hey!
Cordelia: He can get away with it. He's tall, and look at the way clothes hang on him. But you . . .
Angel: Okay. I think you've cheered us up enough.

Cordelia: You can't live in the past. You gotta move on. Let it go. Forget it. Tomorrow's another day. Did I mention letting it go?
Doyle: Twice.

Cordelia: You'll get through this Doyle. Nice guys don't always finish last.
Doyle: You think I'm a nice guy?
Cordelia: I think it; I say it. It's my way.

Cordelia: Not my fault!
Angel: He's having a vision.
Cordelia: At this hour?

I Will Always Remember You

He saw Buffy. He was in Sunnydale for three days tracking her and that thingamajiggy you saw in your vision. Where's the crabby scowl? The morbid gloom?

Cordelia: Batten down the hatches. Here comes Hurricane Buffy.
Doyle: You think? Maybe he's over her.
Cordelia: You have so much to learn Little Irish Man.

Cordelia: You don't want to stir, but if my ex came to town and was all stalking me in the shadows and then left and then he didn't even say hello, I'd be . . .
Buffy: A little upset. Wouldn't you?

Cordelia: Well, this is Doyle and he gets visions of people in trouble . . .
Doyle: Pleased to make your acqu--
Cordelia: And this is us leaving you two alone.

Doyle: So that's the Slayer.
Cordelia: That's our little Buffy.
Doyle: Well, she seemed a little . . .
Cordelia: Bulgarian in that outfit?
Doyle: No, I was gonna say hurt.

They'll be into this for a while. We still have time for a cappuccino and probably the director's cut of Titanic.

The Buffy and Angel Show. First, they talk out their differences, then, they punch them out.

Cordelia: Oh my god! She killed him! (touches dust) Oops. My bad. It's just dust. I forgot to clean under the rug.
Doyle: What are you trying to give me a heart attack?
Cordelia: Hey, don't blame me if he's too cheap to hire a cleaning lady.

Cordelia: Hey! You walked in the front door from the street You've . . .,br>
Angel: Yeah.
Cordelia: ...got an umbrella!

Look out! He's going to eat! Everything in sight.

Angel: You know, I'd forgotten how good it all tastes when you're alive.
Cordelia: Yeah, they didn't even have cookie dough fudge mint chip in your day.
Angel: Oh! I want some. Can you get that?
Cordelia: It'll go straight to your thighs.

Cordelia: This plant was thriving just this morning. Now look at it. I'm telling you, where she leads, dark forces follow.
Doyle: Buffy gave it mites?
Cordelia: How else do you explain it?
Doyle: Jealousy?
Cordelia: I'm jealous of her? Please!
Doyle: Just a theory.

Let me explain the lore here, okay? They suffer, they fight, that's business as usual. They get groiny with one another, the world as we know it falls apart.

Doyle: You can't be sure that they're (gestures)
Cordelia: Oh please! They've got the forbidden love of all time. They've been apart for months. Now he's suddenly human? I'm sure they're down there just having tea and crackers.

Doyle: I'll finally be free to go out and make me own mark in the world.
Cordelia: We had a cat that used to do that.

Cordelia: What am I gonna do? I'm good for exactly two things: International superstardom or helping a vampire with a soul to rid the world of evil. That makes for a short, but colorful, resume.

Cordelia: I'm in some real pain here and all you can talk about is Angel. Has it even occurred to you how this whole being human thing might affect me?
Buffy: Regrettably, no.

Hero

Okay, we fade up on an aerial shot -- downtown, skyscrapers, lights, yadda yadda yadda. We hear a narrator -- preferably famous, maybe that bald Star Trek guy or one of the cheaper Baldwin brothers -- and he says, "It's a big, bad city out there." Cut to a woman walking down a dark, spooky street -- alone. We'll cast some beautiful, young actress -- maybe an up-and-coming starlet whose career is on the verge of taking off. Anyway, she's all nervous, right? Mucho vulnerable. The voice guy says, "Danger lurks around every corner." She's attacked by big, ugly goon -- with a knife! She screams, "Help! Is there no one to help me?" "Well, now there's someone who'll answer your call. He'll protect you. Catch you when you fall. You can count on it."

I know a little something about self-promotion, and I'm telling you, one commercial like this could help get us out of the red... or the black... or whichever one means we're broke. 'Cuz that's us!

Doyle: Advertising a super hero who can't really go in the daylight might raise vampire suspicions. Not to mention our pesky lack of an investigator's license.
Cordelia: And who needs a license when we have no clients?!

Angel is all wrong for this commercial! He's a larger than life character, way too Braveheart for Joe Couch Potato to relate to. We need someone who's average, run of the mill, ordinary... you're perfect.

Come over here into the light, and let's see if we can create some cheekbones.

Cordelia: Our boss is in a funk. You know that he's only happy when he's fighting evil. Let's drum some up!
Doyle: I don't know what we need evil for when we've got you right here.
Cordelia: I heard that.

Cordelia: I don't know. I'm not getting Everyman. I'm getting...uh... weasel! We don't want weasel.
Doyle: I don't know. I think people'll be pouring in once they hear about our low rats.

I feel kind of hopeless with him down there doing the nonprofit brooding. It's not like he has a heart. How can it be broken?

Cordelia: Maybe if we get him a costume!
Doyle: A costume?
Cordelia: Well, the guy's a bona fide hero. Would it kill him to put on some tights and a cape and garner us a little free publicity?
Doyle: I don't see Angel putting on tights...Oh, now I do and it's really disturbing.

Cordelia: Angel started the day over knowing he'd remember everything that happened?
Doyle: It's pretty amazing, huh?
Cordelia: Amazing he didn't check the stock quotes or the lotto numbers!

Whoever you saw just now . . . did it look like they could afford to pay?
Cordelia: While this may look like a (looks at item) popular brand of breath freshener, it's really a cunningly disguised demon repellent!
(Sprays breath freshener)
Demon Man: Wintergreen.

Cordelia: Hey, Doyle. You did notice that these people are demons?
Doyle: Yeah, I know that. Doesn't make them bad people.

Okay, mission statement check: Aren't we supposed to be battling the forces of darkness?

Cordelia: So we're booking them on a cruise?
Doyle: Basically, yeah.
Cordelia: I'm guessing not Carnival.

Cordelia: This guy owes Angel money? Why aren't we collecting?!
Doyle: Cordy. Oppressed demon people here. Not getting any safer.
Cordelia: So we're sending them on a cruise, *and* we're paying for it?

Well, it's not exactly the Love Boat, is it?

Captain: Angel said he'd cut my debt in half, I do him this favor, right?
Cordelia: Yeah, half. That's what he said. A big whopping 50 percent. Uh-huh.
Quite a deal.
Captain: You take 60 percent off, then I wait.
Cordelia: You drive a hard bargain.

Demon Man: He has to live with a certain amount of persecution. You always do when you're half demon.
Cordelia: Demon?!

Doyle: I wanted to tell you. I was afraid. Thought if I did, you'd reject me.
Cordelia: I've rejected you way before now!

What do you think I am, superficial?! I mean, you're half demon. That is so far down the list -- way under short ... and poor.

Cordelia: Is there anything else I should know?
Doyle: The half demon thing, pretty much my big secret.
Cordelia: Good. That's out. It's done. Would you ask me out for dinner already?

Parting Gifts

Angel: What are you looking for?
Cordelia: Nothing. (pause) Doyle's special coffee mug.

I'm not going anywhere, so get used to it. I'm staying right here. (Pager goes off) Oh! I gotta go.

Barney: You scared the heck out of me.
Cordelia: You? I scared you? Look in the mirror lately?

Now, Stain-Be-Gone is more effective at melting away *sigh* stubborn . . . blood, wine, even grass stains. See? *sniff* Just spray it on, *gulp* and rub it in *sniff* and in minutes *sniff* the stain is gone. *SOB* It's completely gone.

Now Stain-Be-Gone . . . is more . . . ef-fect-tive . . . GRASS STAINS!

Cordelia: Damn. I can't believe he did this to me.
Angel: Who did what?
Cordelia: Doyle! I thought our kiss meant something. And instead, he used that moment to pass it on to me. Why couldn't it have been mono or herpes?

I didn't ask for this responsibility, unlike some people who shall remain lifeless.

Angel: You had a vision.
Cordelia: Boy! Howdy! And guess what, you know how they *look* painful? Well they *feel* a whole lot worse.

Angel: You're my link to The Powers That Be.
Cordelia: I am nobody's link to anything. I lost control of my entire central nervous system. And I'm not sure, but I may have drooled a little. At my first audition in weeks!
Angel: What was it?
Cordelia: Uh, Stain-Be-Gone. It was a national, no less. They'll probably never call me again.
Angel: The vision! What was the vision?
Cordelia: Oh, pfft, who knows. It was a thing.
Angel: A thing?
Cordelia: An ugly, grey, blobby thing. What difference does it make?
Angel: The difference is if you saw it in a vision, this could be an ugly, grey, blobby dangerous thing.

I don't care. I want it out of me. And if kissing's the only way to get rid of it, I will smooch every damn frog in this kingdom!

(Kisses Barney) Maybe not every frog.

Doyle? He drank too much, and his taste in clothing was like a Greek tragedy. And he could be really sweet sometimes. You'll like this, he was half-demon -- a secret he kept from for, like, *ever*. I guess that's the reason he sometimes smelled weird.

Wesley: Well, what a nice . . .
Cordelia: *SMOOCH*
Wesley: Surprise.
Cordelia: Didn't work!
Wesley: No? I thought it went considerably better than last time.
Cordelia: No, I was trying an experiment with . . . Wesley?

Cordelia: What are you doing here? Are you working with Angel?
Wesley: A lone wolf such as myself never works with anyone. I'm merely allowing Angel to assist me.
Cordelia: Oh. Wow.
Wesley: I'm a Rogue Demon Hunter now.
Cordelia: Wow. (pause) What's a rogue demon?

Barney: You're frustrated.
Cordelia: That's one spooky talent you've got there. You can just look at me -- grinding my teeth, sighing, grunting -- and sense that I'm frustrated? Amazing.
Barney: It's pretty good at sensing sarcasm, too.

Barney: Can I help?
Cordelia: Not unless you can explain to me why I have to suffer skull-splitting migraines getting visions so vague they require close captioning.

Cordelia: I'm never going to forgive him for doing this to me.
Barney: For what? Choosing you? Trusting you with an enormous responsibility? Believing that you were the only one worthy of such a rare and important gift?
Cordelia: Did I mention the drooling?

I hope you like your coffee black because the only lightener the boss has in his refrigerator is O positive.

It's kind of strong . . . and clumpy. I never could brew the old-fashioned way. I'm more the auto-drip.

Cordelia: Oh! A vision! I'm having a vision. A demon. A creepy little . . . You! It's definitely you. You're in great, great . . .
Barney: Danger?
Cordelia: Pain! (KICK)

I'm really not a seer. I only had a vision once, and I'm pretty sure it was just something I ate!

Barney: Going for 11, 000 once, twice. . .
Cordelia: Hey! You know you'd pay twice that for cataracts. These are flawless even without the stupid visions. Is that the best you can do?

Barney: Going for 12,000 . . .
Cordelia: You know what these eyes can do? They can, uh, see. . . stuff! Like, uh, danger and . . . and evil and locations of buried treasure!
Barney: 13,000! Do I hear. . .
Cordelia: C'mon! Have some huevos guy! Whitey here is steppin' all over you. You gonna take that from his kind?

Cordelia: I never doubted for a minute you'd find me.
Angel: Well, I was lucky. I had a Rogue Demon Hunter on my side.
Cordelia: Not that he didn't have it coming. He was a horrible evil monster.
Angel: He did kill a lot of people.
Wesley: Viciously mutilated their corpses.
Cordelia: Plus he started the bidding on me at a paltry $2,000.

This I frame for saving my life, and as a reminder that something of Doyle's is here in our office.

One of the perks of the job: After an all-nighter of fighting the lurking evil, we get eggs!

He's a good cook for someone on a liquid diet.

Somnambulist

Nobody likes a smart-ass rogue demon hunter.

Wesley: How go things on your end of the good fight?
Cordelia: I've been giving the hard sell to an empty chair. What do you think?
Wesley: Quiet all around then.

Wesley: We made a most effective team, I felt. Vanquishing that empathy demon in such short order.
Cordelia: Yeah, well, nobody gouged out my eyes, so I'm happy.
Wesley: Yes, most effective -- your cryptic visions, Angel's brawn, my highly developed powers of deduction...
Cordelia: This isn't our mail.

Angel: Who were you talking to?
Cordelia: Nobody. And Wesley.

No go. DMV's totally stalkerphobic.

Wow, you look half-dead. Which for someone who's completely dead would be...kinda neat?

Are you sure you're okay? I mean, for a guy who's 200 plus, you're not usually with the bags...

Geez, Wesley! Hover much?

Oh my god! You cut up Dr. Folger's newspaper? You're going to get us kicked out of this building.

Wesley: While executing my duties as Watcher in Sunnydale, I did extensive research, specifically on Angel -- given his uncomfortable proximity to the Slayer.
Cordelia: He looked pretty comfortable to me.

Cordelia: I don't care how many files you have on all the horrible things that he did back in the Powdered Wig Days. He is good now. And he is my friend. And nothing you or anyone else can say will make me turn on a friend.
Angel: Cordelia, he's right.
Cordelia: [to Wesley] You stake him, and I'll cut his head off.

Angel: I'm not gonna hurt you.
Cordelia: Oh, is that what you said to Miss Third Body Found in Alley?

Angel: I have no memory of doing any of these things.
Cordelia: Oh, not exactly the confidence-inspiring denial I was looking for.

Wesley: You fear these might be more than just dreams, that you're acting them out in some sort of hypnagogic state.
Cordelia: Hypna-wha-gic?
Wesley: Sleepwalking.
Cordelia: Vampires can't sleepwalk. He'd take one step out the front door, and his PJs would burst into flames.

Cordelia: Glamorous LA life. I get to make the coffee *and* chain the boss to the bed. Gotta join a union.
Angel: Cordelia, I think that's tight enough.
Cordelia: And if it turns out we're back on a liquid lunch? Better safe than cocktails.

Cordelia: Okay, well, pleasant... I mean, sleep tight.
Angel: That's pretty much a given.

Wakey, wakey!

Good news, sports fans! There's been another killing. Okay, well maybe not so great news for the, you know, dead person. But at least now we know that Mr. I'm So Tortured didn't do it.

A real Psycho-Wan Kenobi.

Cordelia: Gallagher's changed his act more times than this dude has in the last two centuries. Why do you think he's doing the same old shtick?
Wesley: Well, it's a classic, isn't it? Every time he smashes that watermelon with a sledgehammer, I just...

So, you've discovered the seamy underbelly of a candy-coated America, have you? Well, you've come to the right place. Here at Angel Investigations, we won't judge, but we will charge.

Penn: So this is more than just a professional relationship, then? He cares for her.
Cordelia: Oh yeah, more than he knows. But that's our Angel -- dour, sure, but not afraid to get personally involved in his work and you're totally pumping me for information, aren't you? Oh Crap. You're him! He! The guy. Apt Pupil Boy.

Penn: You realize you'll never make it to the exit before I...
Cordelia: (pulls up the blinds) Go up like match?

Angel: Get me a stake.
Cordelia: It's like 8 in the morning. Oh!

That's not the only thing that goes on and on.

It's the same place. New name and a facelift. Not the first time that's happened in this town.

If you're wondering why this vein on my temple is doing the cha-cha, it's because I just had one of those bone-crunching, mind-splitting, vision headaches.

Angel: I was just thinking about how much this place is like where I grew up.
Cordelia: Right. Yeah. I can see that, except for the cars and the buildings and the, you know, everything else.

Angel: I wonder if anything ever really changes.
Cordelia: Sure it does. They do. You have. They were just dreams, Angel. They weren't even your dreams. They didn't mean anything.
Angel: But I enjoyed it.
Cordelia: It'd probably be okay if you never mentioned that part ever again.
Angel: It's still in me, Cordelia.
Cordelia: Sure it's in you -- we all have something. But it's not the only thing that's in you. You're not him, Angel. Not anymore. The name I got in my vision? The message didn't come for Angelus; it came for you. Angel. And you have to trust that whoever The Powers That Be...be...are...is, anyway, they know the difference.

Cordelia: People really do change.
Angel: Yes, they do. Sometimes they change back. The day ever comes that I...
Cordelia: Oh, I'll kill you dead.
Angel: Thanks.
Cordelia: What are friends for?

Expecting

Angel: You look nice.
Cordelia: Aagh! Oh, and now, I look like the Joker.
Angel: Sorry.
Cordelia: Hopefully, I'm still too young and carefree for a heart attack. Would it kill you to hum a little tune when slipping up on people?
Angel: I don't hum.

Angel: Okay, so, why is Mrs. Benson filed under 'F'?
Cordelia: Because she's from France. Remember what a pain she was?
Angel: Yeah, made me want to drink a lot.
Cordelia: Well, that's the French for you.

Wesley: I also packed along a Word Puzzle 3-D, if either of you has the nerve to take me on.
Cordelia: Gee, Wesley, I'd love to, but unlike you, I'm not in my 80s quite yet.

Angel: So, you've been seeing someone. How come I didn't know?
Cordelia: Because I'm ashamed of you -- not to mention how you'd embarrass me by giving him the third degree.

Angel: So, that client I'm supposed to be meeting tonight, what's he like again?
Cordelia: Like a big baby, hatching from a big egg, with really large hands in need of a manicure.

Wilson Christopher: So you left Sunnydale and came to LA. What was that like?
Cordelia: Skydiving without a parachute. Except for the smashing your body to bits part. Actually, no, it was like that, too.

Cordelia: Oh, and the guy that's supposed to be here when you arrive?
Wilson: The guy?
Cordelia: With the big bag of fame and fortune?
Wilson: Oh, that guy.
Cordelia: So, what happened to him?
Wilson: He comes and goes. He's sort of fleeting that way.
Cordelia: Well, if you see him, will you tell him to fleet my way?

Cordelia: In high school, I knew my place. And, okay, it was a haughty place, and maybe I was a *tad* shallow . . . .
Wilson: Oh, hey, nobody feels like they belong here. That's sort of the point of LA, to make you feel as insecure as possible.

Cordelia: Um, you don't have to--
Wilson: Call you?
Cordelia: Go home? I mean right away. It's still early . . . . in Australia.

Wilson: You live alone, right?
[Lights go up on their own - Dennis did it]
Cordelia: In the sense that I'm the only one living here that's actually alive.
Wilson: That was a yes, I think.

Alright, Dennis. Knock it off. This is the one guy I've actually liked in a long time. And if you keep killing the mood, I'll kill you! Alright, empty threat -- you being a ghost and already dead. But I'll do something worse! I'll play Evita around the clock -- the one with Madonna!

Wilson: Who're you talking to?
Cordelia: My ghost? I have a ghost. He's jealous.

Cordelia: Angel.
Angel: It's all right. We're here.
Cordelia: I'm ready to wake up now. I don't seem to be waking up.

What would I say to him? "I had a really great time. I think you left something at my place?"

Angel: You're not alone.
Cordelia: That's sort of the problem, isn't it?

I really hate dating.

Cordelia: This producer was so nice. He said I was his first choice. We're going out to dinner tonight.
Angel: Tonight?
Wesley: Well, best you get back on the horse, I suppose.
Cordelia: He is so sweet! He says that all I have to do is let him impregnate me with his demon master's seed, and I've got the part!

Cordelia: I'm a lot stronger than those demon surrogates thought.
Angel: I'm startin' to learn that.
Cordelia: I learned something, too. I learned, um, men are evil? Oh, wait. I knew that. I learned that LA is full of self-serving phonies. Nope. Had that one down, too. Sex is bad?
Angel: We all knew that.
Cordelia: Okay, I learned that I have two people I trust absolutely with my life. And that part's new.

Sanctuary

Wesley: I can't tell you how sorry I am that I allowed this to happen.
Cordelia: I believe it was Faith who allowed her elbow to collide with my face.

Wesley: At least you only got the elbow.
Cordelia: Well, if it's any consolation, it looks like you were tortured by a much larger woman.

Angel: He'll come around.
Cordelia: Wesley? Sure. People always get a little funny right after they've been sadistically tortured. Well, you'd know.

Cordelia: I need you to sign these.
Angel: You understand why we have to help Faith, don't you?
Cordelia: Totally. And here.
Angel: We can't just arbitrarily decide whose soul is worth saving and whose isn't.
Cordelia: Oh, I know. And this one. Thanks!
Angel: Those were all made out to you.
Cordelia: Yeah!
Angel: Paid vacation.
Cordelia: Like I'm gonna stick around here while a psycho case is roaming loose downstairs with 3 tons of medieval weaponry? Not! Oh, and I'm thinking -- sugar high? Maybe not a good idea.

War Zone

Cordelia: Mmmah. I've missed that smell.
Wesley: Camembert, I believe.
Cordelia: What? No. Money. I like to smell a little money once and awhile.
Angel: She's not just saying that. Hide some in the office some time and watch her. It's uncanny.

Cordelia: Did someone find out you were a big nerd?
David Nabbit: No, that's actually public record.

Don't worry, we're incredibly discreet. We'll mingle here for a few hours so no one suspects.

Cordelia: I'm in charge of the...enh...m-m-mo...
Wesley: I think there's been some mistake.
Cordelia: I'm sure Mr. Nabbit knows how to write a check.

I like David. It's such a strong, masculine name. Just...feels good in your mouth.

Cordelia: You look...
Angel: Like I've been beaten and stabbed?
Cordelia: Want to see the check again?

Wesley: I can certainly understand their stake first and ask questions later state of mind. That's how they survive.
Cordelia: And the idea of a vampire in a white hat probably seems a little gimme-a-break-y.

Cordelia: You know, there's nothing like riding in a convertible with the top down to make you see the sun and sand. Mmmm. Smell that salt air.
Wesley: That's not salt.
Cordelia: I don't think it's air, either.

Cordelia: Reality is a choice, Wesley. You see what you want to see, and I'll see what I want to see.
Wesley: A man exiting an alley pushing a shopping cart.
Cordelia: No, I see a very tanned lifeguard type with large...

Wesley: You ask this gentleman if he's seen anyone that fits the description of our young vampire killers, while I check the power line for any taps.
Cordelia: Uh, why don't you ask him and I'll check for taps?
Wesley: Because you can imagine him as a scantily clad buff young stud, while I'm stuck with the naked truth.

Cordelia: Trying to open that? They locked you in, huh?
Angel: No. I just love old meat lockers.
Wesley: You should have tried to call us on your cell phone. (pause) You probably forgot you had it.
Angel: These things hardly ever work. Besides it was a lot easier and quicker to just...Look, I'm the boss here. I say when we use the cell phones, and people are gonna die, and I have to go.
Cordelia: You're welcome.

Wesley: Certainly gives one a sense of perspective, doesn't it?
Cordelia: Yes. It does. And I think, perspectively speaking, I might want to prostitute myself to billionaire David Nabbit.
Wesley: Cordelia!
Cordelia: What I mean is, he's a nice guy who wants companionship. I could use some security. So when I say "prostitute," what I mean is...
Wesley: Prostitute.
Cordelia: For instance.

Wesley: Do you think you really could?
Cordelia: I dunno. I could probably learn to love him. Looks aren't everything. Chemistry. Personality, that's important. And except for a lot of...other...It's not what's on the outside that...Nah. Never mind.

Blind Date

Wesley: Perhaps Angel's discovered a new species?
Cordelia: What? Helen Kellerus Homicidilus?

Wesley: Angel said it was as if she anticipated his actions before he carried them out.
Cordelia: A handy skill -- in a fight or on a date.

Wesley: You found her?
Cordelia: Our first stop doesn't always have to be World of the Weird, you know. Sometimes actual human people can be just...awful.

Wesley: The human eye is only capable of registering a small portion of the electromagnetic spectrum. But if Brewer were somehow equipped to see outside that range...
Cordelia: She'd be Superman.

Angel: She murdered a man right in front of me, and I can't even testify to that fact in a court of law.
Cordelia: Well, maybe in night court you could...

Angel: It's their system, and it's one that works. It works because there's no guilt, there's no torment, no consequences. It's pure. I remember what that was like. Sometimes I miss that clarity.
Cordelia: But...not the trying to kill your friends and family part, right?

Why are you going in at all? I thought Born Again Boy was gonna do it?

Well then, it seems pretty simple -- except for the you'll- definitely-get-caught factor.

Cordelia: Hey, guess what they've been doing all day.
Wesley: Uh, saving the world?
Cordelia: Well, yeah! But they've been breaking encrypted computer files, too.
Angel: What are the odds, huh?

Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Okay. Willow says "Hey."

Are you telling me self-mutilating, psycho assassin chick reached enlightenment?

Lindsey: Sorry I'm late. Hope I didn't worry anyone.
Cordelia: We just figured you were dead.

To Shanshu in LA

Cordelia: What's taking so long?
Wesley: Gee, I don't know, Cordelia. The Prophecies of Aubergion were only written over the last 4,000 years, in a dozen different languages, some of which aren't even human! Why don't we just get a Phalangoid Demon in here, suck the brain out of my skull. Maybe that would speed things up.
Cordelia: He sure gets testy when he's translating.

Cordelia: Hurry up and figure out what it says about Angel, ‘cuz I want to know what it says about me -- if there's torrid romance in my future, massive wealth. If I have to, I'll settle for enviable fame.
Wesley: It's an ancient sacred text, not a Magic 8 Ball.

Cordelia: Nobody gets my humor.
Angel: I thought it was funny.

Wesley: After all you did for him, he sells his soul for 30 pieces of silver.
Cordelia: Actually, he sold it for a six figure salary and a full benefits package.

David Nabbit: What did I do today? Spun off my digital pager network, made a few more million...Alright several. Big whup. What does that mean?
Cordelia: No more shopping at a Penny Saver?

Wesley: I think I know what it means.
Cordelia: A very wealthy man with just no life at all?
Wesley: No, the word in the scroll.
Cordelia: That shoeshine thing?

Cordelia: Angel's going to die?
Angel: Oh. Anything else?

He certainly took that well. Is this that opportune time to talk about my raise?

Cordelia: Pain! Killer!
Wesley: Painful killer demon...
Cordelia: Painkiller!

Enough with the scratch-n-sniff visions!

I ever meet those Powers That Be, I am going to punch them in the nose. Do you think they have a nose?

Cordelia: Well, it's a prophecy. It's not like it came from on high.
Wesley: That's what a prophecy is, Cordelia.

Angel faces death all the time. Just like a normal guy who faces waffles and french fries. It's something he faces every day, like...lunch! Are you hungry?

Wesley: That fact that his death is prophesied, which isn't good news, doesn't concern me nearly as much as the way he took that news.
Cordelia: What? He didn't scream like a girl as some of us would have? Angel's cool.

Wesley: What connects us to life?
Cordelia: Right now? I'm going with donuts.

Cordelia: What are you saying, Wesley? That Angel has nothing to look forward to? That he's going to go on forever, the same? In the world, but always cut off from it?
Wesley: Yes.
Cordelia: That sucks!

Well, he's going to have to start wanting things from life, whether he wants to or not!

Cordelia: You're cut off from life. But don't worry, I'm going to help you with that.
Angel: Oh. Good.
Cordelia: We'll start small. Keep it simple. How would you like...a puppy? Right. A ficus? They're low maintenance. Ant farm?

Cordelia: He's not crazy or anything. He's just different.
Street Vendor: Depressed?
Cordelia: Well, he wears a lot of black.

Don't be embarrassed. We're family.

Wesley: I...I'm not used to...
Angel: He's not used to the new you.
Cordelia: I know what's out there now. We have a lot of evil to fight, a lot of people to help. I just hope Skin-n-Bones here can figure out what those lawyers raised sometime before that prophecy kicks in and you croak. (pause) That was the old me wasn't it?
Angel: I like them both.

Wesley: Uh...oops. I may have made a tiny mistake. The, uh, word -- shanshu -- that I said meant you were going to die? Actually, I think it means you're going to live.
Cordelia: Okay, as tiny mistakes go, that's *not* one.

Wow. Angel human.

Cordelia: What was that thing about him having to fulfill his destiny first?
Wesley: Well, it's, uh, it won't happen tomorrow or the next day. He has to survive the coming darkness, the apocalyptic battles, a few plagues, and some...oh, several--not that many--fiends that will be unleashed upon the world.
Angel: So don't break out the champagne just yet.

Typical. I hook up with the only person in history who ever came to LA to get older.

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