Cordelia: So here I am at L'Petite Renard with "Mr. Armani" who could keep me in blue boxes for the rest of my life...
Angel: Blue boxes?
Cordelia: Tiffany's. God! And the whole night I was bored silly. All I could think about was if this wimp saw a monster he'd probably throw a shoe at it and run like a weasel. Turns out the shoe part was giving him too much credit.
Angel: There aren't very many people who wouldn't run. It's just human nature.
Cordelia: Yeah. But, all of a sudden, rich and handsome wasn't enough for me. Now I expect a guy to be all brave and interesting. And it's your fault, both of you.
Angel: Well, maybe not. Maybe you're changing. And that could be a good thing.
Cordelia: Or disastrous. As if I wasn't confused enough, then Doyle comes along and rescues me like some badly-dressed superhero. He was really beat up. But, you know the first thing he asked? "Are you okay?"