Angelus : Dear Buffy. Hm. I'm still trying to decide the best way to send my regards.
Spike : Why don't you rip her lungs out? That might make an impression.
Angelus : Lacks... poetry.
Spike : Doesn't have to. What rhymes with lungs?
[Angel puts a human heart in front of Drusilla]
Angelus : Happy Valentine's Day, Dru.
Drusilla : Oh... Angel... It's still warm.
Angelus : I knew you'd like it. I found it in a quaint little shop girl.
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