( Few things instill the same sort of simple joy as the roar of an engine and sunshine-laden wind in one's face, so despite the concern behind her recent inquiries Miss Phryne Fisher arrives with a wide grin and amiable disposition. She bears no passengers today; merely an assortment of baskets, boxes, and containers which either clink promisingly or waft deliciously, depending on their contents, and which she happily surrenders to the staff as they deftly move in to take charge.
She herself carries merely a clutch, though slightly larger than her standard, and a sharply fashionable hat she's still unfastening from its ribbon-held security atop her head as she's led into the Prince's company, shaking out her hair with a pleased breath. ) Your Highness, ( Phryne beams with an exact curtsey, hat akimbo in her offhand, before striding forward to greet him more personably. ) It's good to see you. Thank you for all this; I do hope you haven't gone to too much trouble on my behalf.
[It's hard not to be affected by such contagious enthusiasm. Logan dips his head in a small bow a slight smile already on his lips.] Miss Fisher.
[The politeness makes him smile more, both because it's well done and completely inaccurate.]
There's no trouble in setting up something so interesting. Most people want me to attend charity functions or dinners. This is rather refreshing.
[Which is par for the course for Phryne. It helps that she's so pleasant with him. Not everyone is, after all. But Logan appreciates that she tends to buck the norm, while also knowing her manners.]
Much as I adore a good party, a break from routine never goes astray, ( Phryne agrees, amusedly sympathetic. Her own eccentricities mean she gets away with - and from - a lot more than a prince can probably manage.
She turns to regard the weaponry her arrival had distracted from, geniality slipping towards thoughtful consideration, propelling her in measured steps forward. Phryne halts with a hand outstretched, quirking an eyebrow over her shoulder at her host. ) Am I allowed to touch, or does that require a license or waiver of some sort?
[He does, however, step in to take the sword she was reaching for. It's heavy, but he's familiar with weaponry like this. So it's simple enough for him to hold it out flat, making it easier for her to inspect.]
You can try holding it if you like. [A small tilt of the head and the thinnest line of amusement.] Just try not to behead me in the process.
( She runs her gloved fingers along it first, a careful testing of the edge, an acquainting with the hilt. )
I usually try not to commit regicide on an empty stomach, ( Phryne offers dryly, a bit absent-minded. When she takes the blade it's with a small oof! of acknowledgement of the weight: not so much how heavy the thing is, but where the balance of it lies. Even with the two-handed grip, learning the leverage of a thing like this certainly must take practice, strength, and control. She hefts it experimentally - pointedly not anywhere near Logan - and adds, ) Besides, it's hemicorporectomy I'm trying to recreate. Academically.
[He arches an eyebrow at the choice of wording, but it's too nice a day to comment on it.]
That's not a good incentive to provide refreshments.
[Not that he needs to, judging by the baskets she brought with her.
He's comfortable enough around weapons and inexperienced people welding them. So he stays out of reach, but close enough to help if the weight becomes too much. Though she's doing much better than he expected.]
That's the bisection you mentioned before, isn't it? Why do you think it was done by sword?
( Pish-posh, she's never once indulged in regicide. Can you imagine the headache that would incur? And not just for any beheaded monarchs in the room, either. )
Lucky I brought my own, then, isn't it?
( Surprisingly fit for the task though Phryne may be, she's not big on swinging around heavy objects any longer than strictly necessary. She hums, thoughtful, as she resets the sword to its place, eyes still sharp over the shape of it. It helps to see the puzzle pieces in tangible form. Blades like this are big, bulky; not necessarily razor-sharp. Taking someone apart at the waist would require extreme strength, correct leverage, or considerable finesse. Or - more likely - a combination thereof.
Her eyes snap back to Logan, a flash of a smile her apology for drifting off into temporary theorising in her own mind. )
Yes, ( Phryne sighs confirmation; nasty business, really. Holding up her clutch with a waggle, she strides over to a small sidetable and begins pulling out a file folder, crowding photographs onto the narrow surface. ) If anyone asks why I have these, why, I can't possibly deny royalty, ( she cheerfully instructs.
The photographs, for all their clinical detachment, are still focused on a rather gory sight. Phryne's nose wrinkles, distaste and sympathy, gesturing for Logan to examine if he so wishes. She won't blame him if he'd rather not. She steps back to give him room. ) Medically, a hemicorporectomy is an extreme amputation: complete removal of everything below the waist. As you imagine, it would have to be rather a dire situation to require such radical steps.
[Given how often Logan slips into his thoughts, he won't begrudge Phryne time with her own. His concern is entirely on making sure she doesn't lose her grip or hurt herself while she inspects the weapon. As capable as she is, Logan relaxes when she puts the weapon away again. It means he can focus on her again, rather than any potential danger.
Drawn in by the suggestion of something secretive, Logan follows her over to the table. He hadn't anticipated that Phryne would have photographs like these with her. They're met with a frown, as if to brace against their contents, but he doesn't look away. Rather, he looks closer, hands folded behind his back except to gently move one out of the way to inspect another.]
A sword would not be the best tool for such a task. If that's what they used then, yes, a greatsword is not a bad choice. It would need to be extremely sharp and strong, and used by someone with the skill to make such a good cut. One swing wouldn't have done it, either, but that would make sense with what is shown here.
[Straightening, Logan catches the attention of one of the servants standing closer to the house.]
Would you fetch Florian, please? And the pig. As well as some refreshments. I believe Miss Fisher brought some with her.
[Logan looks at Phryne with a smile.] A demonstration will help you get a better idea of a greatsword's capabilities.
The sword feels more to be a statement than any kind of utility, ( Phryne muses, stepping back in to run a finger just-above one photograph, tracing the vicious line of bisection. ) Even so, the killer knew what they were doing; it's almost textbook, aside from the brutality of the tool employed. Not just the cut, but the severing of the spine itself.
( So: not coincidental, and not at all haphazard. Someone who knew what the operation ought to be, and used their own unconventional methodology to achieve it. Rather a bizarre set of criteria. Then again, Phryne's used to little else, in most cases.
She turns a raised eyebrow in Logan's direction, looking brief askance after the disappearing servant and then back to him once again. ) I do hope poor Piggy isn't about to be on the refreshments menu? That might be a little too farm-to-table for my appetite.
[Logan listens with a tilted head.] What sort of statement does a sword make? I assume your victim was unarmed, so not a duel, not a sign of respect... [He looks at Phryne.] Does your killer believe himself some kind of knight?
[The concern gets a small shake of his head.] No. A pig carcass is the best stand in for a person when it comes to the effect of weaponry... If that's all right with you? I thought it might give you an idea of what was required to use a greatsword.
[Several people start to filter out of the building. Servants bringing out glasses, plates, drinks and the contents of Phryne's baskets to set on the tables by the chairs.]
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She herself carries merely a clutch, though slightly larger than her standard, and a sharply fashionable hat she's still unfastening from its ribbon-held security atop her head as she's led into the Prince's company, shaking out her hair with a pleased breath. ) Your Highness, ( Phryne beams with an exact curtsey, hat akimbo in her offhand, before striding forward to greet him more personably. ) It's good to see you. Thank you for all this; I do hope you haven't gone to too much trouble on my behalf.
no subject
[The politeness makes him smile more, both because it's well done and completely inaccurate.]
There's no trouble in setting up something so interesting. Most people want me to attend charity functions or dinners. This is rather refreshing.
[Which is par for the course for Phryne. It helps that she's so pleasant with him. Not everyone is, after all. But Logan appreciates that she tends to buck the norm, while also knowing her manners.]
no subject
She turns to regard the weaponry her arrival had distracted from, geniality slipping towards thoughtful consideration, propelling her in measured steps forward. Phryne halts with a hand outstretched, quirking an eyebrow over her shoulder at her host. ) Am I allowed to touch, or does that require a license or waiver of some sort?
no subject
[He does, however, step in to take the sword she was reaching for. It's heavy, but he's familiar with weaponry like this. So it's simple enough for him to hold it out flat, making it easier for her to inspect.]
You can try holding it if you like. [A small tilt of the head and the thinnest line of amusement.] Just try not to behead me in the process.
no subject
I usually try not to commit regicide on an empty stomach, ( Phryne offers dryly, a bit absent-minded. When she takes the blade it's with a small oof! of acknowledgement of the weight: not so much how heavy the thing is, but where the balance of it lies. Even with the two-handed grip, learning the leverage of a thing like this certainly must take practice, strength, and control. She hefts it experimentally - pointedly not anywhere near Logan - and adds, ) Besides, it's hemicorporectomy I'm trying to recreate. Academically.
no subject
That's not a good incentive to provide refreshments.
[Not that he needs to, judging by the baskets she brought with her.
He's comfortable enough around weapons and inexperienced people welding them. So he stays out of reach, but close enough to help if the weight becomes too much. Though she's doing much better than he expected.]
That's the bisection you mentioned before, isn't it? Why do you think it was done by sword?
no subject
Lucky I brought my own, then, isn't it?
( Surprisingly fit for the task though Phryne may be, she's not big on swinging around heavy objects any longer than strictly necessary. She hums, thoughtful, as she resets the sword to its place, eyes still sharp over the shape of it. It helps to see the puzzle pieces in tangible form. Blades like this are big, bulky; not necessarily razor-sharp. Taking someone apart at the waist would require extreme strength, correct leverage, or considerable finesse. Or - more likely - a combination thereof.
Her eyes snap back to Logan, a flash of a smile her apology for drifting off into temporary theorising in her own mind. )
Yes, ( Phryne sighs confirmation; nasty business, really. Holding up her clutch with a waggle, she strides over to a small sidetable and begins pulling out a file folder, crowding photographs onto the narrow surface. ) If anyone asks why I have these, why, I can't possibly deny royalty, ( she cheerfully instructs.
The photographs, for all their clinical detachment, are still focused on a rather gory sight. Phryne's nose wrinkles, distaste and sympathy, gesturing for Logan to examine if he so wishes. She won't blame him if he'd rather not. She steps back to give him room. ) Medically, a hemicorporectomy is an extreme amputation: complete removal of everything below the waist. As you imagine, it would have to be rather a dire situation to require such radical steps.
no subject
[Given how often Logan slips into his thoughts, he won't begrudge Phryne time with her own. His concern is entirely on making sure she doesn't lose her grip or hurt herself while she inspects the weapon. As capable as she is, Logan relaxes when she puts the weapon away again. It means he can focus on her again, rather than any potential danger.
Drawn in by the suggestion of something secretive, Logan follows her over to the table. He hadn't anticipated that Phryne would have photographs like these with her. They're met with a frown, as if to brace against their contents, but he doesn't look away. Rather, he looks closer, hands folded behind his back except to gently move one out of the way to inspect another.]
A sword would not be the best tool for such a task. If that's what they used then, yes, a greatsword is not a bad choice. It would need to be extremely sharp and strong, and used by someone with the skill to make such a good cut. One swing wouldn't have done it, either, but that would make sense with what is shown here.
[Straightening, Logan catches the attention of one of the servants standing closer to the house.]
Would you fetch Florian, please? And the pig. As well as some refreshments. I believe Miss Fisher brought some with her.
[Logan looks at Phryne with a smile.] A demonstration will help you get a better idea of a greatsword's capabilities.
no subject
( So: not coincidental, and not at all haphazard. Someone who knew what the operation ought to be, and used their own unconventional methodology to achieve it. Rather a bizarre set of criteria. Then again, Phryne's used to little else, in most cases.
She turns a raised eyebrow in Logan's direction, looking brief askance after the disappearing servant and then back to him once again. ) I do hope poor Piggy isn't about to be on the refreshments menu? That might be a little too farm-to-table for my appetite.
no subject
[The concern gets a small shake of his head.] No. A pig carcass is the best stand in for a person when it comes to the effect of weaponry... If that's all right with you? I thought it might give you an idea of what was required to use a greatsword.
[Several people start to filter out of the building. Servants bringing out glasses, plates, drinks and the contents of Phryne's baskets to set on the tables by the chairs.]