Grant: Thank God, Eugene!

Xander: Bring him in here it's more private.

Lyrken: He's shaking, it's too late.

Xander: Alan...it'll be ok. I'm the telepath everyone talks about. He'll be fine. Just let him go. I've got him.

Thought(Grant): Eyes clear...

Xander: Here, place him against the wall. Let's have a look at you, son.

Thought(Grant): Clear eyes mean he's healed the internal injuries. Now the show starts. I hate this, Eugene. I wish you wouldn't grandstand.

Xander: What's your diagnosis, Mr. Lyrken?

Lyrken: Bad? Broken bones?

Thought(Grant): As if two broken femurs are too difficult for a mere Evil Overlord to discern in the overall medical miasma.

Xander: Hugh, isn't it? You sat with your mother last time I gave a speech in the piazza. That was years ago, you probably don't remember me.

Thought(Grant): Eugene, he may be a kid, but he's not an idiot.

Telepathy(Xander): Thank you, Rhelan.

Xander: This will hurt quite a bit.

Thought(Grant): Make it painless for him, Eugene! You can so easily!

Xander: I'll be as quick as possible. Just give me a nod when you're ready, ok?

Thought(Grant): It's sick enjoyment of another human being's pain. I don't want to know why you do it. But Eugene, really...is your father figure image among the millennial demographic this important?!