"Blackened windows will never blend in, not in Sunnydale." Angel had flicked his hand around the crowded parking lot, as if daring her to defy his theory.

Buffy had looked around, unable to resist a challenge, but had to give up after a quick look at every car in her line of sight. There were a couple vintages, some even older than Angel's; but if any of the owners had been forced to change the original windows, none of them had bothered to discontinue the use of clear ones.

"You want to… blend in?"

He'd stared at her. "Don't you?"