I... wha... what is that? Is that a...!? [Her face runs hot; proof or not, there are some things you don't do in a girl's own home. And she walks over and decks him for it, a solid shot right to the face.] How dare you! But... you're right. It's evidence. There wouldn't be merchandise if it didn't happen.

[And his instructions to Potpourri really drove it home.] I'm... I'm a Precure...? But I... [She looks down at the fairy in her arms, and she can't seem to find the anger she'd been channeling, her complaint dying on her lips as she realizes that this fairy is effectively hers.]