[There is a very pronounced rustle of taffeta skirts and ivory satin, followed by a huff of a rather perturbed lady. The accent that comes forth is upper-crust London, make no mistake.]
Of all the bothers. To wake up in the middle of some -- some wasteland! How very unnecessary and inefficient. One must hope, if one is kidnapped, to have the comfort of it being done by professionals.
[She pauses, getting a better grip on a sturdy parasol -- one with what appears to be a brass buckshot at the tip. After another few moments of pondering and searching about, she picks up the PCD, giving a much better shot of her face. Coffee-colored skin, dark eyebrows and eyes, a very full mouth and a somewhat large nose.
Both angular eyebrows lift upwards as she begins to tweak the knobs and buttons, looking quite fascinated with it.
Ladies and gentleman, Alexia Tarabotti.]
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