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Instead you go all Dumbledore on me. This may come as a shock, but I'm actually not very good at talking to girls. Sarcastic? Unfeeling? British? Someone else's loss is my chocolatey goodness. It was the pioneer days; people had to make their own interrogation rooms. Out of cornmeal. It has nothing to do with me.
I swallowed a bug. When I kiss you, you don't wake up from a deep sleep and live happily ever after. Any self-respecting demon should be living in a pit of filth or a nice crypt. Uh, thermal exhaust port's above the main port, numbnuts. I've got four brothers, none of them Democrats. Since when do they have orgies, and why aren't I on the mailing list? I'm the one who brings about the thought-pocalypse. Stay with me. Forever. That's the whole point.
What, you think this isn't real just because of all the vampires, and demons, and ex-vengeance demons, and the sister that used to be a big ball of universe-destroying energy? Shh! No programs, don't use that word. Just be Buffy. He'll be an empty-headed robot wondering around Hollywood; he'll be fine! It's getting eerie, what's this cheery singing all about?
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