Angel, Season 5

Illyria:
You break so easily. Why do you bother getting back up?

Spike:
Right. We need to set some ground rules. First off... no more punching me in the face. Secondly, when I punch you in the face, you tell me how you feel so I can write that down on my clipboard. Third... no touching my clipboard. Fourth...

Illyria:
I enjoy hurting you.

Spike:
Well, we're gonna have to fix that, 'cause...

[Illyria kicks Spike in the face. Spike punches her. Illyria punches him across the room]

Wesley:
How goes it?

Illyria:
I've been hitting the half-breed. He makes noise.

Spike:
We're off to a bit of a rough start, but don't worry. I'll break her.

Wesley:
She's not a horse, Spike. You know, this room is equipped with automated training devices. You don't have to test her by just... allowing her to pummel you.

Spike:
We're working on the basics. But don't worry-I'm writing it all down.

Wesley:
Ok. Fine.

Illyria:
You reek of frustration. Curls off of you like smoke.

Spike:
Actually, love, we call that scotch. 12-year Lagavulin, if I'm not mistaken. Good choice.

Wesley:
It's nothing. I'm just, uh... I had a... slight disagreement with Angel.

Spike:
Oh, old broody-pants got you wound up, eh? Keep in mind, he can't get laid without maybe going crazy. Makes it funny.

Illyria:
In my time, a leader would punish your insolence with death.

Wesley:
We're not being insolent, Illyria.

Spike:
I am.