Grant: You've got to do something about Shane. Heal him, send him away, kill him, or just be patient with him. And you know which option I'm voting for.
Xander: Forgive me if I'm repeating myself. Shane is a moron. He'll never recover from that brain injury...
Xander:...beyond the intelligence of a child.
Grant: That you caused!
Xander: Everyone is entitled to make mistakes.
Grant: You're not. You're different.
Xander: Her name, by the way, is Kore. Coreyanglicized, but she plays up on the foreign sound...something about sales and marketing in southern Europe...I thought it was poetic. Fit the situation well.
Grant: I've got to call the requisitions in.
Xander: You're always late!
Grant: I'm thorough. And you would have eaten potatoes and mutton tonight like everyone else if I hadn't spent time thinking through your menu. Anything else you can think of for my list?
Xander: Were you not listening?
Grant: Oh for the love of mike! A thousand sheep. Fine! You have no imagination when it comes to shopping!
Narration(Grant): He'll drink for hours after this. But he'll never find a rest from his telepathy. And I'm going home to watch television. And I don't have to set eyes on that insufferable harpy for another eight whole hours. I'll get him a birthday present. That oughta fix him.