Spike hasn't spent a lot of his daydreams on how the various people he knows would look like as a tiny-- thing. Dammit, it's on the tip of his tongue... There's a candy named after them, isn't there?

Regardless, he isn't terribly phased by her anger, instead staring at her quizzically while throwing his towel over his shoulder. With the light it's hard to make out if she's wearing a tiny eye patch, but the name comes to him anyway. "...Molotov?"