"Bloody hell... that's big, mate. And awfully red."
"And very irritating, I suppose."
"Extremely. Any luck with you?"
"Nope. Big, swollen, nasty thing that just might cover a very small state – possibly Vatican City."
"Of all things... we gotta be in the same boat for this..."
"Funny, isn't it?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of humiliating and painful."
"Well, yeah, that too. Sometimes I just want to just scratch 'til my soddin' fingers bleed."
"I hear ya... being human sucks! Why the hell did I ever want it so much? You got sensitive skin, disease –"
"That's under the disease category..."
"I know – just think it's a funny word – like throwin' it about frequently."
"Remind me why we ever went to the beach again?"
"Because our significant others made us."
"Screw women... I'm frankly rather ticked at the bloody mosquitoes. Don't suppose this is a sort of lesson from the Powers, do ya? You know, we spent our existence bitin' people, now we get to learn how it feels?"
"I'm not sure. God knows they'd be sadistic enough to do it."
"Those sons of bitches..."
"Dammit! This crappy cream does not stop the itch! I'm going to have to bite my own fingers off."
"Seems like I'm gonna have to join you, Peaches. Can't stand it much longer... you know, I see no reason why I even had to got to the beach. I'm English, I don't tan!"
"Exactly! Well... I gotta keep my hands occupied to keep from causing severe damage to myself ... where's Faith?"
"Did you really have to have those two statements beside each other, Spike? Jeez... she's at the mall with Fred."
"Ah – got to enter a place full of screeching teenage girls... mission impossible. I've always liked a good challenge, though. I'm off then, mate."
Spike exits the room, remaining behind Angel alone with his thoughts... and itchy mosquito bite... and anxious fingers. No! No! Can't scratch...can't scratch.
And then, he truly listened and took into careful consideration Spike's final words. With a sudden and gleeful smile, Angel called down the stairs, "Buffy?!"