"Was I ever that cute, Sitri?"

“It still isn’t funny,” grumbles Meg. A few days have passed. She’s sitting with you in The Rose & Rose, a pub in central London, drinking classic ale.

“Sure it is.”

“Shut up.”

Meg’s photo, standing nude and astonished in the street outside the theater, has by now graced the cover of every last tabloid in the nation. Only moments after it was taken, hundreds more naked women came galloping out all the Getgood Theater’s doors in every direction, only to find themselves ambushed by dozens of grinning photographers who had no intention of letting them get away with their dignity intact. And all the photos of those naked women can be found inside the tabloids. Some of the special editions run to hundreds of pages long. But Meg’s quick thinking won her the dubious honour of the front page, and so she’s become a sort of mascot of the whole affair. She keeps getting recognized in the street.

Duchess Georgina stands behind the bar, pouring beers. She still wears only her corset and stockings. She doesn’t look happy to be there.

“Over here!” You wave a hand in the air.

“Sitri! It’s so nice to see you! How long has it been? Like, three hundred years?” The blonde from last night, the one who played Annie, sits down at your table and places a pint in front of you. There’s a smile on her innocent face as she looks Meg up and down. “Is this your new summoner? Oh my gosh! She’s adorable! Was I ever that cute, Sitri?”

“You were even cuter, Arabella.”