Lorne: It'll be fabulous. Believe me, Jerry. Yes. It's Grapes of Wrath in outer space. Uh-huh. Oh, it's got heart. Yes, it's got laser battles. It's got a timely message of interstellar poverty. Uh-huh. Listen, have your assistant call my assistant. We'll set something up. Good enough. J.C., Listen, just got off the Nextel with big "B." Yeah, intrigued, but wants to know who's playin' Tom Joad. Uh-huh. Well, I'm pretty sure that Henry Fonda's dead, sweetie. Yeah. Bring him back to life? Let me talk to my science people. OK, no promises. Directors.

Lorne: Angel, Angel. We've gotta have a confab. Es muy importante—
Angel: Uh, or—wha—
Lorne: Uh, it's about the party? I've done all I can do for the big to-do, but we've still got a few bugs to comb out of the cootie garage. A bridge too far? Uh, let me try it again. Uh—
Angel: Look, Lorne, I've been out all night, OK? I'm beat up, I'm exhausted, I'm covered head to toe in Thraxis blood, which actually kind of burns, so this is all gonna have to wait until I take a shower.
Lorne: You killed the Thraxis?
Angel: Shower.
Lorne: Hey, Van, look, why don't we, uh, scratch the Thraxis off the invite list.

Eve: Hi. Uh, the door was open. Well, unlocked. Well... I had a key. So, uh, wow. You take a long shower for a guy. Were we having some gentlemen's time?
Angel: Gentlemen's?
Eve: I mean, I understand. You're running the whole circus now, a lot of pressure, especially with your hands-on policy. No pun intended. I'm sure you could use a release.
Angel: No releasing, just bathing. That's what one does after bashing open a demonic piñata full of rancid Tabasco. What do you want, Eve?
Eve: You stood me up. We had a 7:30, Angel, a meeting.
Angel: Oh. Right. Uh... I'll get my pants.

Angel: OK, why does it look like we're having a party in here?
Lorne: Well, maybe 'cause we're having a party in here. The Wolfram & Hart Halloween Bash? Ring a bell? The biggest event on the company calendar? I sent you a small forest's worth of memos on it.
Angel: We're havin' it here?
Lorne: You see what I'm up against?

Lorne: Our party, tweety bird. Which, by the way, is dying on the vine. I could really, really, really use some help from you guys— some backup?
Fred: I wasn't really planning on going.
Lorne: Wes. Do you hear this crazy talk?
Wesley: Uh, well, I really hadn't given much thought to going myself.
Lorne: Et tu, Brutuses? Why is it so hard to get anyone to have any fun around here?
Knox: You should go. It's the Halloween blowout to end all blowouts. Last year, uh— They took a bunch of cows and put them in a giant wicker effigy of Krishna, uh, doused it with sambuca, and it— Uh, well... anyway, it—it's a hell of a good time.

Spike: In my day, no self-respecting creature of the night went out on All Hallow's Eve. We left that to the posers, the blighters who had to dress up and try to be scary. Magic windows. Will the perks never end?

Lorne: So, uh, Angel, we just wanted to take a moment and emphasize how important this party really is to us.
Gunn: I gotta say Lorne is right. We gotta show all the big bads that the new regime is here to stay, which, for the most part, boils down to image. And image-wise, if this party doesn't kick ass, we lose face.
Lorne: And believe me, milk dud, speaking as the head of your P.R. Department, we need all the face we can get.
Angel: Milk dud?
Lorne: Said with affection.
Angel: OK, listen, I understand the whole "keeping up appearances" concept, but everyone coming to this thing is unrepentant, dyed-in-the-wool evil.
Lorne: Angel, a good host just doesn't make these sort of judgments.

Eve: Which brings up another point— your employees.
Angel: Also evil.
Harmony: Here's your blood, bossy. Ahem. Boss.
Eve: Some of them, yes, but all of them work hard for this firm, and Halloween, well, around here it's like Christmas. Simply put, this is a morale thing.
Harmony: Good luck. The morale around here stinks.
Angel: What?
Harmony: Uh-huh. Everybody thinks you suck. Well, come on, boss. They're all out there, sweating through their matsudas, worried if you're gonna axe them or, you know, axe them.
Angel: OK, look, hey, I haven't— OK, look, I may have...killed a couple of them.
Lorne: And several clients...and maybe some potential clients? Why do you think my R.S.V.P. list is only a fifth of the size of last year's?
Eve: It's you, babe.
Angel: Come on, what, do they think I'm throwing this thing so I can slaughter them? Fine. I surrender. Go ahead, Lorne. Put on your best dog and pony. I won't get in the way.
Lorne: I don't want you to sit back and just let it happen, Angel. I need you to get out there and make it happen.

Lorne: Archduke Sebassis. Bona fide nobility from the fiery down under. Commands over 40 legions. He's the living end of a pure bloodline of demonic royalty.
Angel: Great. Just great.
Lorne: Well, also, the very peak of the A-list mountain. He's the crown jewel of the underworld jet set. If we convince him to come, all the other glitterati will just domino in right behind him, and then—then we'll be in business.
Angel: This really matters to you, doesn't it?
Lorne: Well, of course. The new Wolfram & Hart— I mean, we have to—
Angel: No. I mean, this really matters to you. Personally.
Lorne: Yeah. You know, Angel, I— I don't have superhuman strength, and I'm not a fighter. Quantum physics makes me nauseous, and I barely made a passing grade at mystical studies, but I'm on your team. This is something I can do. I believe it has a purpose that can help you, even if you don't.
Angel: Well, I'm here, aren't I? I agreed to this.
Lorne: No, you—you did. You did. And I promise you won't regret it. But, hey, let's leave it that you let me do most of the talking, huh? You just kind of smile and try not to rip anybody apart. OK?

Sebassis: So... this is the mighty Angel. I've been told many things about you. Bit of a restless frog, hmm? Making lots of waves in your little swamp.
Angel: Yeah, well, I'm just trying to keep the fly population down.
Sebassis: Yes. Though I do prefer the tales of your counterpart Angelus. Ah, you had flair back then, child.
Angel: Well, I guess we all mellow in our old age.

Lorne: Hey there, wallflowers!
Fred: Wallflowers?
Lorne: I need you to give me a hand, help light the fuse on this powder keg? Look at the dance floor. The only thing on it is Harmony. Hey, you keep pushing that envelope, baby!
Wesley: I'm afraid this really isn't our element, Lorne.
Fred: Yeah. We're wallflowers.
Lorne: Oh, no, no, no, sweetie. You're the young, the beautiful, the ready-to— oh. Well, here's one problem. You're totally sober! It's Halloween. You should be 3 sheets to the wind already. Now, try and get into the spirit of things, OK?

Lorne: Angel. It's a graveyard out there, and all the guests wanna meet the new guy in charge.
Angel: Look, Lorne, I—I— I have things. I'm busy. I'm brooding.
Lorne: Oh, you're watching hockey!
Angel: Yeah, but my team is losing.

Harmony: Come on, Spikey. Come dance with me.
Spike: You have got to be kidding.
Harmony: Oh, come on!
Spike: Listen, chippie, you can gyrate all you like. I'll go to hell before these ghost shoes touch that dance floor.
Harmony: Ohh, blondie bear, where is your Halloween spirit?
Spike: Dearly departed. All this claptrap for a bit of dusty old Druid nonsense. The whole silly lot of you can get hung if you ask me.

Lorne: Artode, welcome. Welcome. Love the jacket, by the way.
Artode: It's Pylean.
Lorne: Oh, made in Pylea. Ha. My home dimension.
Artode: Not made in, made from. I skinned it myself. Anybody you know?
Lorne: Well, great. Thanks for dropping by. Ha ha.

Eve: I have to say, I'm impressed. I saw you with Sebassis. I honestly didn't know you had it in you.
Angel: Yeah, well, it was an act. I think.
Eve: I picked up on that from 100 yards away. Yep. You were bangin' it out to the cheap seats.
Angel: Funny. I was gonna say the same thing about that dress.
Lorne: Oh, you two. Really. The sexual tension? Oh, with a knife you could cut it, huh? Get a room.

Wesley: Hey. Hey, Gunn. Is something weird going on? Charles, you just peed on my shoes.
Gunn: I'll be damned. That's weird.
Spike: Hey, is this a great party or what?
Fred: OK, something is definitely wrong with this picture.
Spike: This might be the greatest song ever written.
Wesley: Yes. We appear to be under the effect of something, a spell.
Gunn: Spike, how long have you been, you know... this?
Spike: It's great, isn't it? I don't know. Happened a bit after I talked with Angel and Lorne. Yeah. Lorne told me to think positively.
Wesley: Lorne.

Fred: Angel? You in here? Ang—
Angel: Ohh! What?
Spike: Hey! Angel's getting some! Good on you, mate.

Wesley: Lorne's doing it—something to all of us.
Lorne: I am not.
Wesley: Everything he's told us to do, we're doing. Spike's thinking positive, Gunn is peeing all over the office.
Fred: And we're a little bit drunk.
Wesley: Yes. But not because we drank, because Lorne told us to be drunk.
Angel: Lorne told you to pee all over the office?
Gunn: Lord, I hope so.
Lorne: This is crazy. I am not doing this. I would know if I was doing this. I don't even know what this is.
Spike: You know, I really love your desk.

Lorne: Angel, we still got a party going on. Someone has to make sure there's ice in the drinks.
Angel: Oh, right.
Spike: Ooh, ooh! Me! Me! I'm your people person.
Angel: Gunn, go on the floor, see if anyone else is under the Lorne effect.
Gunn: Check.
Angel: And stop with the—
Gunn: Do my best.
Angel: And, Eve, you stay here with me, and we'll have more sex.
Eve: I'm on it.
Spike: Brilliant plan. Excellent.

Spike: That's one bitchin' big suit.
Angel: Lorne, what the hell is this?
Lorne: Stop it! Stop killing! Listen to me. Me! Wow, I must really hate myself.

Harmony: Oh, my God! They shot Lorney-tunes.
Lorne: No. I'm OK. Just gonna rest my eyes a little bit.

Angel: Eve. So I guess we should, I don't know, talk?
Eve: About what?
Angel: About what happened back there with us.
Eve: Angel, it's not like this is the first time I've had sex under a mystical influence. I went to U.C. Santa Cruz.

Angel: We're not OK. We've been so focused on the dangers outside that we didn't see the ones within. This place is trying to change us, Gunn. We can't ever forget that.
Gunn: Pretty damn good party, though. I'll see you tomorrow— well, today, but later. Oh, and your chair.
Angel: What?
Gunn: Don't sit in it. I already called janitorial.
Angel: Why can't I—
Spike: You pissed in the big man's chair? That's fantastic!
Gunn: Spike, can you please turn off that warm fuzzy?
Spike: What, the Lorne thing? Wore off. I just think that's bloody fabulous.