"No way am I telling a bunch of Slayers we're out of chocolate. You tell them. It's your fault anyway."
"My fault?" Andrew sputtered.
"You're in charge of provisions," Xander replied.
"You approved it and how was I supposed to know a case of chocolate bars wouldn't be enough?"
"A case? What are you, a moron?" Xander asked.
"I can't do it."
"Sure you can," Xander said, slapping him on the shoulder. "Just close your eyes and think of England."
"Not even for Dorothy's ruby red slippers."
"On of us has to." With a sigh, Xander asked, "Rock, paper, scissors?"