The last time a man had complimented the goldenness of her hair, she had gone out and had it chopped short that afternoon. But that had been a far stranger context and Buffy kept her own kind of vanity about the length of her hair. "It used to be short." Buffy held a hand just above her shoulder. "Like, this short."

But the fingers tangled up in the dread slowly unwrapped themselves. Then wrapped again. "And you say act when the truth is probably that they are."