[For the curious - Angelica's headed straight for the kitchens. Being half-starved for two years will rearrange your priorities a little.
It takes her a while to figure out the communicator, and there's a couple of muffled, nervous posts lasting all of three seconds just before this.What cheer, everyone. I am not so certain if you can even hear
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...Oh bugger this week ten times sideways.]
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She spies a woman staring at her. No, not just staring, she seems almost astonished. Angelica looks over her shoulders to see if maybe the woman is looking past her.]
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When Angelica does the obvious "are you looking at me?", Una swallows hard and struggles for her composure.]
Er. Hello. You ... you're Angelica [oh bugger, it's not Sexby at this point, definitely; it might be Rainsborough, but let's try a shot in the dark] Fanshawe, yes?
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She's trying to shrink into the doublet when the lady speaks - fortunately for them both, Angelica senses nothing odd about the exchange.]
Aye. [She sits up, hastily brushing crumbs off the front of her shirt.] Aye, newly arrived to-day.
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...Sexby?
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Tell me, is there cinnamon? Is there -- sugar?
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Cinnamon, nutmeg... There are a lot of spices. And there's definitely sugar.
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Forgive me, I know not your name.
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[Well hell...]
Or... Miss Fanshawe... [Long, long pause.] Be cautious in the kitchens. It will get busy soon. [Oh, so much forced sweetness.]
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I'm Svetlana.
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Svetlana. Your name sounds [Odd] different to me. Where are you from?
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I mean: hello, mi-...ma'-...um. I'm Constable Crabtree.
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Constable of where, sir?
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