Fred: Sure. Banished to the ocean depths by your ungrateful snot of a son.
Gunn: Not that she's bitter.
Angel: I never got the chance to thank you. Finding me, bringing me up. Must have been hard for you. No map, all that water.
Angel: What should I do then? Send her a gift? Sacrifice? Unholy fruit basket?
Angel: Keep it up you're gonna make me seasick.
Dinza: I doubt it. I think it would have happened before now.
Dinza: I know you were lost. I know all the lost things.
Angel: Really? City of Atlantis? Holy Grail? Jimmy Hoffa.
Elliot: I thought I said discreet.
Gwen: What? Do you see a nipple?
Gunn: Yeah, but if it's an auction house can't we just, you know, e-bay it?
Fred: I'm still working on a plan, but so far it involves being sent to prison and becoming somebody's bitch.
Angel: No one's going to jail, Fred. I told you, a heist like this, I've done it a million times. Okay. Maybe twice, but I'm good at it. I swear!
Gunn: Uh, you're not counting the time we stole the crazy making death shroud that nearly killed us, right?
Angel: I'm really strong, if that helps.
Gunn: That's my girl, large and in charge. Okay, teensy-weensy and in charge.
Gunn: Damn. This is so much harder than it looks on Batman.
Angel: Who are you?
Gwen: Who are you?
Angel: I asked you first.
Gwen: What are you, seven?
Angel: What I find interesting? The fact that I can smell you and Wesley all over each other.
Fred: Being dead? Gone. See anything interesting? White light? Shirley McLain?
Gwen: You're alive.
Angel: You felt that? My heart...
Gwen: It was beating. It doesn't, does it?
Elliot: No. I thought he was yours - what with the - tonguing.
Gwen: In his dreams.
Angel: Not even close.
Angel: He's gonna seal us in. Turn on the gas.
Gwen: What are you, Lex Luthor?
Gunn: You think higher beings get to take vacations?
Angel: The way I saw it - it felt sort of permanent.
Gunn: Too bad. We could've all gone to Vegas.
Cordelia: What are you? Deficient? Get me out of here!
