> 22 < (video)
[ The video turns on and there's Felicia's face, domino mask on and bangs pulled back. She grins and winks at the monitor, setting it down on a table and pressing a finger to her lips. ]
Felicia! Have you seen my tie? -- The black and purple one, you know, the Italian silk?
[ The communicator is slowly turned to face a cake - a birthday cake, judging by the candles, numbers and a question mark, that proclaim an uncertain and facetious 350? There is a black stripe across the cake, highlighted with purple. Maybe it's icing? Maybe... ]
Felicia!
What!
[Rather rushed and masculine footsteps are heard in the background. The angle of the camera catches the torso of a detective very fond of green.]
Is... Is that what I think it is?
[ Mostly off screen. ] If you think it's a cake, then yes.
Give me back my tie!
[A scuffle of noise ensues.]
And I am not three-hundred and fifty! What are you, twelve?
[A gloved hand grabs the zero and flings it out of sight.]
Talk about gratitude. [ Sarcasm. Smirk in her voice, though. ] I think you'd be in trouble if I was.
[Shattering noise.]
You soiled my tie with cake. [Beat.] And I'm thirty-five, dammit!
[Transmission feed cuts.]
Felicia! Have you seen my tie? -- The black and purple one, you know, the Italian silk?
[ The communicator is slowly turned to face a cake - a birthday cake, judging by the candles, numbers and a question mark, that proclaim an uncertain and facetious 350? There is a black stripe across the cake, highlighted with purple. Maybe it's icing? Maybe... ]
Felicia!
What!
[Rather rushed and masculine footsteps are heard in the background. The angle of the camera catches the torso of a detective very fond of green.]
Is... Is that what I think it is?
[ Mostly off screen. ] If you think it's a cake, then yes.
Give me back my tie!
[A scuffle of noise ensues.]
And I am not three-hundred and fifty! What are you, twelve?
[A gloved hand grabs the zero and flings it out of sight.]
Talk about gratitude. [ Sarcasm. Smirk in her voice, though. ] I think you'd be in trouble if I was.
[Shattering noise.]
You soiled my tie with cake. [Beat.] And I'm thirty-five, dammit!
[Transmission feed cuts.]