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Spike: Look, I know for a bleedin' fact the Slayer wouldn't mind me being here.
Riley: Right. What's a little sweater-sniffing between sworn enemies?
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Giles: The demon woman was here, the one who attacked you.
Willow: It's no biggie. She just got an amulet and a blood stone.
Anya: That can create a monster.
Willow: Okay, biggie.
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Tara: (reading the Magic Box slogan) "Your one-stop spot to shop for all your occult needs." Catchy.
Giles: Think so?
Tara: Uh-huh. In a... hard to read sort of way, but I think it's great.
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Giles: (to a customer) Ah, a weeping Buddha: shoulders your spiritual burden. Makes a lovely paperweight, too.
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Buffy: How did she get away with this bad mojo stuff?
Anya: Giles sold it to her.
Giles: I- I- I... I didn't know it was her! I mean, how could I? If it's any consolation, I may have overcharged her.
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Anya: Are you stupid or something?
Giles: Allow me to answer that question with a firing.
Xander: She's kidding. An, we talked about the employee-employer vocabulary no-nos. That was number five.
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Spike: Okay, how 'bout this one. Twice in recent memory, she's had the lover-wiccas do a deinvite on the house. Keep out specific vamps. Ever ask yourself why she's never taken my name off the guest list?
Riley: Because you're harmless.
Spike: Oh yeah, right. Takes one to know, I suppose. Least I still got the attitude. What do you got, a piercing glance? Face it, white bread. Buffy's got a type, and you're not it. She likes us dangerous, rough, occasionally bumpy in the forehead region. Not that she doesn't like you ... but sorry Charlie, you're just not dark enough.
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Xander: Am I right, Giles?
Giles: I'm almost certain you're not, but to be fair, I wasn't listening.