"...Walked this ENTIRE way and STILL not a single dinosaur, maiden, shrine or otherwise! What kind of two bit, third rate sorry excuse for a--"

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! Dulcinea is on the warpath, and she's making a point of stamping every puddle on her way, because every tiny distraction is another half second she doesn't have to put up with the Wishing Girl and that makes it time worth spent. That's what carries her across the street in the first place, ranting and tossing her umbrella between her hands depending on which one she needs free for gesticulating. 

"Can't BELIEVE I pay all these taxes and we can't even get a SIMPLE scientific quandary resolved without half a dozen things exploding. Metaphorically, even! Because of course they wouldn't ACTUALLY blow up! That might be COOL! I swear to... ngghffrrbl... rrrrrgh! And other words!"

Stomp! Stomp! Stomp! In incomparable Ms. d'Avignon trudges miserably within inches of the only person in Fortitude who maybe ([i]maybe[/i]) surpasses her own abject misery. She clomps on by with loud stomps and louder ranting without so much as a sideways glance and disappears around a corner.

Three.

Two.

One.

Dulcinea is moonwalking. She reappears around the corner and slides back to the spot where she picked up the strange reading, still facing the same direction she was originally travelling. She overshoots her new mark by a full twenty paces. When she starts walking forward again she's considerably more measured. All stomped out, if you prefer. She turns her head and properly looks at Jasper for the first time. 

She almost drops her umbrella. 

"You! Are! PERFECT! omg omg omg omg just... stay right there! Don't move a... here, hold this for me. No wait wait, actually, hold this, hold this! I can't believe my luck!"

Without waiting for a response, she shoves the umbrella in Jasper's drooping hand and doesn't seem to care or notice that a cold drizzle is now soaking and chilling her through to the bone. There's goosebumps crawling up and down her for all intents and purposes bare legs but there's no time for that right now because she's got about thirty things to fish out of her--

No hold on a second she's not holding the umbrella right, just... lift that arm up like this... a little to the left and... ok, [i]now[/i] she's got about thirty things to fish out of her bag. She drops the bag carelessly on the sidewalk before tucking her notebook inside it with surgical precision. Her first prizes in her self looting spree include an empty test tube, a flashlight, a pocket knife, a stethoscope, on old popsicle stick that from the looks of things was grape flavored once upon a time, and a pair of absurdly unfashionable glasses, which she immediately slides on her face. 

"Hm, hm, I see... interesting. Interesting..."

She's got the popsicle stick in her mouth as she works. Working is probably the wrong word for it, though. Dulcinea [i]dances.[/i] She snatches individual raindrops from the sky and places them in her test tube, mixing them together with a vigorous swirling motion before holding them up to what light there is today and then draining the contents into her own mouth. She swirls the rainwater around in her mouth before swallowing and making a surprised face.

"Really? But then..."

Long and, if we're being honest, kind of rough and bony fingers grab your face, Jasper. She traces the contours of your jaw, turns your head from side to side, tilts it up, tilts it down again, shines her flashlight in your eyes, then your ears, and then your mouth, asking 'and how do you feel?' roughly every quarter second or so without exactly waiting for an answer. How about now? How about now? How about now??

That seems to be enough. She snaps the pocket knife back out from the inside of her shoe and clicks the blade open with a casual flick of her wrist. She shakes her head, gingerly replaces the blade, then pulls out the [i]special[/i] one that's underneath it. And she jumps! Hop hop hop! She's really got no hops, quite frankly, you'd be in huge trouble if you wound up with her on your pick up basketball team, but it's enough to get her high enough to make her little curvy slash slash motions through the air above her own umbrella. Where the blade slices through the rain, the air falls away. Several raindrops are cut in half. She cuts four lines in a square(ish) pattern and then plucks the resulting swatch of rain-soaked air out of the sky, turning it over and over in her hands before crumpling it up and tossing it onto the street over her shoulder. 

Her conscience crystal turns an angry shade of red. That's [i]littering[/i], Dulcinea! She shrugs and stuffs the little know-it-all back in her back in the same motion that she draws her notebook back out and starts rapidly jotting down a universe's worth of notes in incredibly tiny letters.

"Right! So! How about we start with the obvious question: is there a... [i]particular[/i] reason you haven't eaten anything in the last 72 hours? Is there some festival I wasn't informed of? New religion? Old religion? Lost a bet? You lost a bet, didn't you."

[you'd best believe we're dropping 4 willpower on gettin' that 6]