Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Possible HST? Make it a definite.
Oh, hell, no. I made you pay me...
- Don't pick that up. - What is it?
We wish to study the physiology of every subterrestrial's natural defences.
- There's some interference with the tracer. - Try to lock it down.
Tracking mud all over your mud.
- Close the door. - Spike?
She's a little antsy around commando types.
- I am how they trained me. - They?
No, no. It's your help I need, actually.
- When did you get a pager? What's going...? - That's our cue. Mother wants us.
Maybe you're more of a Cherry Berry fellow.
Because you do that. You're the goody-good guys.
No.
What's the matter? Weren't expecting to see me?
Anya, there's a bottle of Cognac in the cupboard by the sink. Can you get it?
No.
- In broad daylight? - Weapons at the ready.
- They really keep ya hoppin', don't they? - Yeah. I gotta go. I'll see ya?
That's all you really need to know.
Some sort of illumination emanating from it.
Well, what's their ultimate agenda?
Your choosing to remain in Sunnydale might make that a little difficult.
This will feed me back an image, and I can advise you from there.
Why exactly can't we damage this poker thing's arms?
The implant works. Hostile 17 can't harm any living creature without intense pain.
Well, I'll see ya later. OK?
Riley.
What a stupid game. All these rules just to win little plastic discs.