Status Updates From Transcription

The woman's bag was easily large enough to conceal a weapon. Even in the grip of her own paranoia, Juliet could acknowledge that it was an unlikely guise for an assassin. She feared that she was beginning to tread the wilder shores of her imagination. Juliet could only imagine the havoc she would cause if she started brandishing her own gun. And she couldn't shoot every drab housewife - she'd be here all day.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck," Juliet murmured and Lester flinched - not so much at the word, she suspected (his father was a bastard, after all), but at the consequences of the word. There was an interesting ethical debate to be had about the difference, but now was most certainly not the time.

"Crumhorns and flageolets, I expect. A sackbut or two as well," Juliet said, pulling these words off an obscure shelf in her memory. Were these real instruments, she wondered, or was she just making them up? They sounded ridiculous.