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! And the whole night I was bored silly. All I could think about was, 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.
Angel: There aren't very many people who wouldn't run. It's just human nature.
Cordelia: Yeah. ... But all of a sudden "rich and handsome" isn't good enough for me. Now I expect a guy to be all brave and interesting. And it's your fault. Both of you.
Angel: Well, maybe not. Maybe you're changing. That could be a good thing.
Cordelia: Or disastrous. As if I wasn't confused enough, then Doyle comes along and rescues me like some... badly dressed superhero. [Angel supresses smile] He was really beat up. But you know the first thing he asked? 'Are you okay.' [Angel smiles] I mean, that's, like, substance. Right?
Angel: Well, there's definitely more to Doyle than meets the eye.
Cordelia: So I've gotta kill myself. [Angel stops smiling] I swore, when I went down this road with Xander Harris, I'd rather be dead than date a fixer-upper again.... Still, maybe you're right. Maybe Doyle does have hidden depths. I mean, really, really hidden. But depths! And I kinda have to buy him a mochaccino for saving my life, don't you think?
Angel: Well, I...
Cordelia: Me,too. We'll be back in a half, you watch the phones, okay?

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