The wind whips violently at the end of my low-cut dress, raising it slightly, exposing the top of my satin tights. I push it back down, slightly flustered, and trek on through the centre of Oxford, now pulsating with neon lights.
Slightly flusteredbythisridiculousresponse, heflashes thepicture for 5secondsatthe secondblonde and asks her, "Thisisyoursuspect, how would yourecognizehim?"