Lucrezia is happy enough to let Molotov fiddle with her wig, or her real hair for that matter, but only because she isn't aware of any plans to rob her of her prized golden hair. Ignorance is bliss, even when it comes to this certain name that has Spike all tense or is that because of that strange look Brock is now giving him?

Everything is so confused. She moves to pat Molotov's arm comfortingly. "You can stay as yourself next time, and Brock too, so we can all match," she is so diplomatic, watch. "But before the magic wanes, we must go. Do we not, Spike?"