Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

And I think I killed her.
I saw Mom.
Friendly warning, pet. I'm the type best left alone.
- What? - It's started.
- # Oh, don't deceive me - What? What is it?
Cos I don't mind.
I got it. No problem. I understand.
Who's hurt? I'm fine.
And I think I... I think I killed... the lady who lived here.
But it wasn't.
Bleach-blond hair, leather jacket, British accent. Kind of sallow, but in a hot way?
it is nothing compared to the idea that another girl could mean anything to me.
We can't assume anything. We need hard facts.
So maybe the evil thing messing with you was here too.
The school basement is making him crazy.
- I'm all right. - Let me see, make sure.
I need to see you. There's a house. 634 Hoffman Terrace.
- Sired. - Yeah, he was the guy that sired me.
Figure it out in a cold, impersonal, CSl-like manner,
(humming of "Early One Morning")
- It's either that or the haircut. - The do's quite fetching.
Get off her and let her talk to me!
OK, guys, find me some evidence that he did this.
There's something here.
- Is there trouble? - No. No trouble.
How many girls?
I don't know. I just don't think we can trust anything right now.