"Well at least your honest about it." Dahlia says with a sigh in response to him casually admitting that he was the one who changed her outfit.  "Can I ask why you couldn't wait for me to wake up and do it myself?" she asks as she stretches out on the bed; the hemline of her dress inching up ever so slightly up her thighs, before folding over as she lowers her arms once again.<br/><br/>Turning over; sitting up, she places her bare feet on the carpeted floor as she stares at Algernon Percey who now sat next to her on the bed.  "Someone is trying to set me up?" she establishes; furrowing her brow as fury lights up in her eyes.  She was too busy for this nonsense!  Someone was going about pretending to be her and establishing a murder run.  "Who have 'I' killed?" she asks as she looks at the photographs he layed out on the bed.  She recognized one as a retired M16 officer, Elliot Maze; and another, an ambassador for a country she couldn't quite recall, and whose name she had even more trouble recollecting; but couldn't recognize the at the moment.  "Has there been a pattern found for the murders?" she asks softly, sifting through the photos.<br/><br/>Why these people?  Was it only people whose deaths would be noticed by the Bahamas police force and the M16?  Or was there a deeper meaning in the choice of the people who were killed?  She knew, at the very least, that they weren't focusing on people she knew personally.<br/><br/>"I suppose I could go for a meal and god only knows I need a good glass of wine." she says with a sigh of her own.  There WAS a slight issue to be concerned over beforehand however.  "I don't suppose you've remembered to purchase shoes to match this dress?" she questions; raising a fine eyebrow at him as she wiggles her toes.  "I don't think a five star restaurant approves of a bare foot policy." she says with a small smirk.  The man had good taste in clothes; she could only hope that he had just as good a taste in women's shoes as well.