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Guud effternuun iferyune-a! Des Schneetzel veell nut be-a jueening us tudey. She-a hes run oooot ooff mekeoop und seys she-a luuks "heedeuoos".

Tudey's Menoo Is:

-Cheese-a Reveeuli

-Beeff Reveeuli

-Toona Feesh Sundveeches

-Cucunoot Creem Peee-a

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Pip's eye widened. "That's a curse and a half," he said. "All the guilt of the soul, but not getting the ultimate benefit." He took a long drag on his cigarette. "Still. I highly doubt "perfect happiness" actually exists in this, or any other world."

He paused for a moment.

"Leather pants?"

"I wear them when I'm evil," Angel said, as though that were the most obvious thing in the world. "And you'd be surprised. I had it once. Not sure if it'll ever happen again though. Not that I want to take any chances either."

"Really? Maybe I shouldn't be so cynical." He tried not to snicker. "So... your fashion sense leaves you when your soul leaves?"

As most people would've said otherwise, Angel smiled and was happy to agree with Pip's assessment. "Yeah. Angelus is a total poser. Uglier than me too, though he'll never admit it."

"Seriously. Who wears leather pants?" Pip said, taking a swig of Coke. "Is an inabillity to dress yourself common of other soulless things, or does Angelus prefer the whiny goth boy look for whatever reason?"

"Actually pretty common," Angel said. "Take Spike: been wearing the same black leather coat for years. Like hello, pick a style once a decade at least?"

"To be fair," Pip said. "A black leather coat is better than leather pants. Still, how did he survive the seventies? Or today, even. Nowadays wearing leather makes you look like a Grid ripoff. "

"Spike got stuck on Billy Idol and never left," Angel said. "How he thinks it's a thing is beyond me. I swear you could hang his entire wardrobe up on a single nail."

Pip grinned. "Well, maybe we're onto something. Perhaps fashion sense is actually part of one's soul."

"I think that and a good appreciation of poetry," Angel said.

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