Season One

City Of...

Well, I like the place. Not much with the view, but it's got a nice Bat Cave sort of an air to it.

Angel: You don't smell human.
Doyle: Well, that's very rude. As it happens I'm very much human (he sneezes and spike come out of his face) On my mother's side.

Doyle: I've been sent. By the Powers That Be.
Angel: Powers that be what?



Do you have anything else to drink in here other than Pigs blood?

Doyle: It's not all about fighting and gadgets and such. It's about reaching out to people. Showing them that there's love and hope still left in this world.
Homeless Woman: Got any spare change?
Doyle: Get a job you lazy sow.

I get visions. Which is to say great splitting migraines that come with pictures.

Doyle: Look, high school's over, bud. You gotta make with the grown up talk now.
Angel: Why would a woman I've never met even talk to me?
Doyle: Have you looked in a mirror lately? I guess... you really haven't. No.
Angel: I'm not good with people.

Doyle: You can't cut yourself off.
Angel: Doyle, I don't want to share my feelings. I don't want to open up. I wanna find the guy that killed Tina, and I wanna look him in the eye.
Doyle: Then what?
Angel: Then I'm gonna share my feelings.

Doyle: Wow, you're really going to war here. I guess you've seen a few in your time, yeah?
Angel: 14. Not including Vietnam. They never declared it.

Doyle: Well, listen, best of luck to ya man. I've got some fairly large coin riding on the Vikings tonight, but I'll be there with you in spirit, yeah?
Angel: You're driving.
Doyle: Wait a minute! No, no! I'm not combat ready, man. I'm just the messenger!
Angel: And I'm the message.

(after trying to drive through the gate) Good gate.

Doyle: What happened to Russell?
Angel: He went into the light.
Doyle: Yet, you don't seem to be in a celebrating mood.
Angel: I killed a vampire. Didn't help anyone.
Doyle: You sure about that? Cuz there's a girl upstairs who's as happy as can be.

Doyle: You made a good choice. She'll provide a connection to the world. She's got a very ... humanizing influence.
Angel: You think she's a hottie.
Doyle: Ah, yeah, she's a stiffener alright. I can't lie about that.

Doyle: You know, there's a lot of people in this city that need helping.
Angel: So I noticed.
Doyle: You game?
Angel: I'm game.

Lonely Hearts

Doyle: You know, maybe we should go over this thing again of you getting out in the world and involving yourself with people. It's Friday night! It's the most social night of the week! I mean a couple of lookers like us should be out there enjoying the night life, instead you're sitting here moping around in the dark like some kind of a . . .
Angel: Vampire?
Doyle: Well, yeah, I was gonna say slacker, but yeah, to you Mr. Obvious....

I think we deserve a night of fun, don't you think? I mean, it breaks up the nights of death and mayhem.

Doyle: Tell her what I great guy I am.
Angel: I barely know you.
Doyle: Well, perfect, that should make it easier for ya.

When you're talking me up to her, whatever you do don't let her in on that me being half-demon, okay? Because women get a little funny about that.

It's not like you have a signal folks can shine in the sky whenever you need help, right?

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!

It's a bar. I think I recognized it. One of those terminally stuck in the 80s places.

See, you need to chat people up a bit more casual like, you know? "Hi, what's your name? How's life treating you? What's that you say? Minions from hell getting you down?"

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.

Doyle: Everyone just simmer down here. Violence isn't going to solve a thing. On the other hand, it's kind of festive.

Angel: I'm having a hard time believing Doyle's vision meant that I was supposed to come here and break up a bar fight.
Doyle: Yeah, well, if it was, I'm in for some serious workman's comp.

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

Wow, this place is, uh.... I thought girls were supposed to like pretty things.

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.

Angel: I know I can recognize this thing if I just saw it in another body.
Doyle: That shouldn't be a problem then. That narrows it down to, what, 5 million suspects in the naked city?

Angel: I know you guys have been working hard and cooped up inside a lot. And, uh, to show my appreciation, I was thinking, the night being you know, young and all... that the three of us could, well, should maybe ... go out. You know... for fun.
Cordelia: Or.... we can... go home!
Doyle: And you can sit in the dark alone.
Angel: God yes. Thank you.

In The Dark

Cordelia: Why are you not rejoicing at our first paying client?
Doyle: 'Cause that's not money in your hand darlin'. That's mail.

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.

Just think of it, man: pool-side tanning, bargain matinees, plus there are several strip clubs I know of that have a fabulous luncheon buffet that's really quite tasty..... I've heard.

I got something that'll boost your spirits. Why don't you put it on, and here, I'll stake ya. It'll be fun!

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.

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?

Doyle: [answering his phone] House of pies!

I bet you he's hanging ten off the shores of Malibu right now -- wind in his hair, bikini babes a whistlin'.

Spike: What is it with you good guys running in packs? Who's this one?
Doyle: More than meets the eye, blondie.
Spike: Oooo, the Mick's got spine. Maybe I'll snap it in two.

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

You want the ring, you dog? Go fetch!

Doyle: It is spectacular, I know, but I do promise there will be another one just like it again tomorrow.
Angel: Not for me.
Doyle: What are you saying, that the city's going to get hit by a meteor before tomorrow night? No, no, it's too horrible to say. I can't even bring myself to say the other...
Angel: I'm not gonna wear the ring.
Doyle: That was the other.

Doyle: You got a real addiction to the brooding part of life, did anyone ever tell ya that?
Angel: Once or twice.

So what, you don't get the ring because your period of self-flagellation isn't over yet?

Who'd look out for all the insomniacs?

I Fall to Pieces

We just need the income to pay for the out-go around here.

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.

Doyle: He likes playing the hero. Walking off into the dark, his long coat flowing behind him in that mysterious and attractive way.
Cordelia: Is this a private moment? 'Cause I could leave you alone.
Doyle: I'm not saying *I'm* attracted....

Pen. Paper. Single Malt Scotch.

This ain't single malt. It's.... poly-malt.

Maybe I'm a *little* attracted.

Melissa: Thanks. You guys have been really kind, listening to me, and ... (sips her coffee) It's terrible.
Doyle: We're gonna take care of that.
Melissa: No, I mean the coffee.

Melissa: You know, you really don't have to stay with me all day.
Doyle: Ah, protect and serve -- it's entirely my bag. If I'm not in the way.
Melissa: Oh no. I like it. As long as you're not bored.
Doyle: Oh no. I've got the word jumble right here. It'll keep me occupied. Sadly, for most of the day.

Melissa: I guess Angel's handled a lot of cases like this.
Doyle: Dozens. Hundreds. Dozens of hundreds!
Melissa: It happens that often?
Doyle: Well, exactly like yours? Not quite so many. But protecting young women such as yourself? Oh yeah, there's been... ah... four... and three of them are very much alive and ... is that you?
Melissa: Uh.... yeah. Bungee jumping.
Doyle: Ah, I've always meant to do that, but I intensely don't want to so ... I haven't gotten around to it... yet.

Don't worry. When Angel's finished with this case, I guarantee you'll be wanting to jump off a bridge again.

Doyle: Did they get any prints?
Angel: Yeah.
Doyle: Good, so we can put him behind bars... for about 90 seconds, until he skitters through 'em.

Not a lot of things make me shudder. But this guy? Crawling around under the covers? At least it was just his hands down there.... I wish I hadn't even thought that.

Angel: He's coming undone.
Doyle: I'll say.

Angel: He's killing now.
Doyle: Anybody that stands between him and his obsession. (Looks around) Don't *we* stand between him and his obsession?

Doyle: Whoa!
Cordelia: I was just trying to fix your collar.
Doyle: What say we leave it crooked until this thing is resolved.

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.

Doyle: Let's march down to the bank right now and deposit this beauty.
Angel: You guys go on. I think I'll stay here and not burst into flames.
Doyle: Oh, right, you're pretty much the night deposit guy.

Doyle: Well, still, cause to celebrate.
Cordelia: You think everything's a cause to celebrate.

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

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.

It's like wrestling a tiger just to get to know her.

Doyle: Tell me stuff.
Angel: What stuff?
Doyle: About Cordelia.
Angel: Well, I know she can't type or file. 'Til today I had some hope regarding the phone.

The way she talks, it sounds like she had servants made of solid gold or something.

You're all about money. What about friendship and family and all those things that are priceless . . . like they say in that credit card commercial?!

You're a demon of focus. I can see that.

Angel, you knew I was crazy about her, and I was wearing her down, too. But no, handsome brooding vampire guy has to swoop in all sensitive mouth and overhanging forehead. How 'bout leaving some scraps for the homely-looking fellows who don't turn evil when they get some.

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...

Well the things you learn. I had no idea Angel was Queen of the Winter Ball.

Doyle: It's a system of checks and balances.
Angel: And some of your checks didn't balance.

Angel: We all have problems. It's about priorities. And at the moment, I have a bigger one than you do.
Doyle: Bigger than a Kaliph demon?
Angel: Much. I'm thinking you could help me with mine, and maybe I could help you with yours.
Doyle: Oh, I don't know. I mean, what's your problem exactly? 'Cause, you know, vampire business is . . .
Cordelia: ahem Hi! I was just wondering if you have any linoleum glue. For... if it ... started curling up all over.
Angel: I'll be there in a minute.
Cordelia: Okay.
Angel: Find her an apartment, and I'll deal with your demon.

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

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.

Doyle: I have to pay? Man, I shoulda just handled this myself. I don't have the money. And you can't get blood out of a stone.
Angel: You can get blood out of you.

The place looks great. You worry too much. Don't know what you had against that chair though.

Cordelia: It's her. I know it. The place has that weird little old lady smell like... violets and aspercreme.

Doyle: Well, they didn't find her body for three weeks so it wasn't violets there at the end, I'm thinking.

Uh, Angel Investigations, we hope you're helpless.... no wait...

Angel: Doyle, chant.
Doyle: Oh man, Latin! One of those dead languages you always made me learn . . .

Angel: Sooner or later I'm gonna need to hear it.
Doyle: What?
Angel: The story of your life.
Doyle: Ah, and quite a tale it is, too. Full of ribald adventures and beautiful damsels with loose morals.
Angel: Doyle.
Doyle: I will. Just give me time. The past, don't let go does she.
Angel: She never does.

Sense and Sensitivity

Angel: It's about time!
Doyle: Not a lot of enchanted swordsmiths open on Sunday.

Well, he appreciates us in his own . . . unappreciative way.

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: 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?

Doyle: So, you were right. Papasian's planning something.
Angel: What did you hear?
Doyle: Papasian's planning something.
Angel: That's it?
Doyle: Johnny Red says, quote, "Papasian's planning something."
Angel: I thought he might be planning something.
Doyle: See? You were right.

Kate: You have the most intense eyes. I see such an old soul.
Doyle: He gets that a lot, you know.

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.

Doyle: Why don't we all just...
Kate: Help each other?!
Doyle: Right, by staying here together.

Officer: We're closed.
Doyle: You're the police. You can't close!
Officer: Why not? Haven't we done enough? It's always "find this" "rescue that" with you people.
Cordelia: Aim for the window.
Doyle: I was!
Cordelia: Give me that. [Does it first time]
Doyle: Nice arm.

The Bachelor Party

You know they have trivia games on the Internet now? You can challenge against drunks from all around the world.

Doyle: She's not going to fall for my ample but unpretentious charms, is she?
Angel: Not unless "unpretentious" means you don't like to brag about your family's old money.
Doyle: The only money in my family is underneath the couch cushions.

Everybody's got dinner plans but us.

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.

I'm the one you followed. It's me you want. [Ffft] Ha! [Ffft] Fangs for the memories Vamp man.

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: I'm definitely the yin to his yang, but it works. He's got a good heart, Francis, just like you.
Doyle: Yeah, maybe. But the container -- can I get a side of bland to go with that bland?

When things go wrong and you're young like that, you don't just say "Hey, thanks for the blender. I wish you well." You fight. You tear each other apart until one of you can't take it.

Doyle: He seems like a nice . . . friendly . . . fellow, don't you think?
Angel: Definitely friendly. Only, uh, he seemed a bit . . . .
Doyle: Exactly! I knew he was no good!

Doyle: I can't go trailing after her intended myself. It just wouldn't look right. Angel, you think you would. . . .
Angel: Yeah. Just don't tell Cordelia. She'll want to charge you.

He's a demon? And she's all signed on to be Mrs. Demon? Tell me again how ugly he is.

I knew that nice guy thing was just an act. He's working a spell on her. She's gonna sprout hubcaps from her head or something.

Richard: Everyone, this night is for Doyle as much as it is for me. More even. He's the real bachelor here.
Doyle: Yeah, thanks for not rubbing that in right away.

I guess what I'm saying is. . . I give you my blessing. God bless you. So long as we skip the hug.

Guys, this is great, but I can't reach the pretzels.

Doyle: Look, Richard, as much as I like your family -- and they're great, honest -- I'd really prefer if they didn't cannibalize me.
Richard: Oh, no. You misunderstand.
Doyle: I do?
Richard: It'll just be me.
Doyle: Why don't I just give you that hug, and we'll call it even?

Harry says I should mix with other demons. I'll mix!

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.

I Will Always Remeber You

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.

Doyle: (indicating stake) Why don't you let me have that?
Angel: Because I need it to level my desk. The floor's uneven.

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.

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.

Angel: Some of its blood mixed with mine.
Doyle: And you wound up with a pulse.

Angel: Ugh, my back. It hurts. Everything's...
Doyle: More real? Now that you're real?

Doyle: The Powers That Be don't live in our reality. You have to approach them through channels. Dangerous channels.
Angel: Start approaching.
Doyle: All right, all right. Maybe we could try the Oracles. But if they turn you into a toad, don't say I didn't warn you.

Angel: The gateway for lost souls . . . is under the post office?
Doyle: Makes sense if you think about it.

Doyle: Look at your watch.
Angel: I can't do that Doyle. Next time *remind* me to bring a gift?
Doyle: I knew I forgot something.

Doyle: Don't they deserve a little happiness after all they've been through?
Cordelia: 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.

Well, whatever happens from here on out, at least I'll be able to say good-bye to the bone-crushing, head-wrenching, mind-numbing visions (SLAM)

It was in some sort of factory. I thought it tasted like salt. Could've been the margarita.

Doyle: I think maybe we oughta bring someone a little. . . supernatural. Don't you want to wake the girl?
Angel: Not for the world.

Hero

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?!

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.

Doyle: Angel Investigations is the best! Our rats are low...
Cordelia: Rates!
Doyle: It says rats.

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.

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.

Is this a private catharsis, or can anyone watch?

There's a girl upstairs who's not quite sad enough to cry in me arms, but keep up the dark cloud. I might get lucky.

All right, one of us has been drinking, and I'm sad to say it isn't me.
Doyle: You had the one thing you've wanted in your unnaturally long life, and you gave it back?
Angel: Maybe I was wrong.
Doyle: Or maybe Cordelia was right about you being the real deal in the hero department. See, I would have chosen the pleasures of the flesh over duty and honor any day of the week. I just don't have that strength.
Angel: You never know your strength until you're tested.

You've lived and loved and lost and fought and vanquished inside a day, and I'm still trying to work up the nerve to ask Cordy out for dinner.

Angel: The Oracles said something very bad is coming. Soldiers of darkness ushering in the End of Days kind of bad.
Doyle: So much for the security of long-term savings bonds.

Well, if it's a fight they want...can't someone else give it to 'em?

Tell you what, you fight, and I'll keep score.

I punked out. I'd only just found out about my demon side. I didn't know what it meant. The idea of sudden family obligations with guys that looked like big blue pin cushions, it was just a little bit too much to take right then.

These people are gonna need more than their mythic Promised One. A contractually obligated 500 might be a start.

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

Cordy. Oppressed demon people here. Not getting any safer.

Doyle: You're fast.
Rieff: I'm walking. You're just old.

Rieff: I though all Brakken demons had a good sense of direction.
Doyle: Yeah, we're also pretty good at basketball, too.

I think I hated that plan.

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!

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?

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

Too bad we'll never know . . . if this is a face you could learn to love.

If you need help, then look no further. Angel Investigations is the *best.* Our rats are low. It says rats. Sorry. Our rates are low, but our standards are high. When the chips are down and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone that can you can count on. And that's what you'll find here. Someone who'll go all the way, who'll protect you no matter what. So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices, and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world.

Is that it? Am I done?

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