[2 - Dramatic Chase Sequence] [When one finds themselves in a new place --a very new place, from the look of it-- one might feel inclined to lay low, for a bit. Observe the local culture. Measure twice, cut once, as they say.
Unfortunately, "lay low" is not a phrase within Phryne Fisher's vocabulary.
Which is how she came to offend one of the locals (completely by accident, of course)...and why that local is now chasing her, very angrily, through the streets. The steady clip-clop, clip-clop of well-tailored heels careening wildly down the street heralds her approach, because the honourable Miss Fisher is being chased. Whomever she happens to spot, she'll be heading in their direction, busily fishing a pair of dark glasses out of a pocket as she does so.]
Hello there! [A broad, unflappably friendly smile is painted across her face as she comes to an abrupt stop. Immediately, she holds out her hat and an ornate overcoat, wrapping her scarf around her hair at the same time.] Here, hold this for a moment, please.
[6 - Sea Prunes] Oh, dear. [The height of fine dining, this is not. Between two gloved fingertips, she holds a...a fruit? A candy? It's somewhat soft, and an unnatural shade of chartreuse that she's certain doesn't really exist in food. It also happens to be wriggling, pulsing almost, as if alive. And yet...it most certainly is not. (Is it?) It's certainly not something she's ever seen before.
Nonetheless. Unnatural circumstances make for bold decisions. Scrunching up her face and screwing up her courage, she pops it into her mouth, and--
...immediately, a surprised, somewhat bewildered expression overtakes her face, and she looks down at the bag of like objects in her free hand. To the nearest person looking at their plate in confounded disgust, she'll hold one out.]
Phryne Fisher | Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
[When one finds themselves in a new place --a very new place, from the look of it-- one might feel inclined to lay low, for a bit. Observe the local culture. Measure twice, cut once, as they say.
Unfortunately, "lay low" is not a phrase within Phryne Fisher's vocabulary.
Which is how she came to offend one of the locals (completely by accident, of course)...and why that local is now chasing her, very angrily, through the streets. The steady clip-clop, clip-clop of well-tailored heels careening wildly down the street heralds her approach, because the honourable Miss Fisher is being chased. Whomever she happens to spot, she'll be heading in their direction, busily fishing a pair of dark glasses out of a pocket as she does so.]
Hello there! [A broad, unflappably friendly smile is painted across her face as she comes to an abrupt stop. Immediately, she holds out her hat and an ornate overcoat, wrapping her scarf around her hair at the same time.] Here, hold this for a moment, please.
[6 - Sea Prunes]
Oh, dear. [The height of fine dining, this is not. Between two gloved fingertips, she holds a...a fruit? A candy? It's somewhat soft, and an unnatural shade of chartreuse that she's certain doesn't really exist in food. It also happens to be wriggling, pulsing almost, as if alive. And yet...it most certainly is not. (Is it?) It's certainly not something she's ever seen before.
Nonetheless. Unnatural circumstances make for bold decisions. Scrunching up her face and screwing up her courage, she pops it into her mouth, and--
...immediately, a surprised, somewhat bewildered expression overtakes her face, and she looks down at the bag of like objects in her free hand. To the nearest person looking at their plate in confounded disgust, she'll hold one out.]
Here -- try these. They're delicious!