Starlequin pushed his pince-nez higher up on his short, downturned nose and tittered absently as the others crowded around the body. As he lowered his white-gloved hand he was slightly horrified to see a speck of soot marring the pristine fabric of his shirtsleeve and a brief cry of anguish escaped him. One of the other townsfolk turned to offer him a pitying look of sympathy, and he supposed they mistook his outburst for a show of sympathy for the newly departed. Which of course was terribly sad, a tragedy worthy of song to be sure but just look at the filthy silk on his wrist, heavens it was ruined!
The clamoring of the citizenry at last drew his attention from his own personal suffering to that of their community, and Starlequin sighed as he realized they'd probably insist on hearing his opinion on the matter sooner or later. How very droll, casting lots for a new Sheriff! He supposed there was some wisdom in the matter, for at the least the faster the question was settled the sooner he could reach the dry cleaners' in hopes of rescuing his beleaguered wardrobe.
"No no no, you're going about this business all wrong," he tutted as a lull formed in the conversation. "What we need here is some fresh perspective, an outside view so to speak. Someone capable of bringing an objective sort of mindset to the problem. Someone like, er... well, like that fellow over there." Starlequin waved carelessly to the side and randomly pointed at Sasha, who happened to be neither an outsider nor a fellow, in the general sense of the term. The dapper dandy rolled his eyes at his own aim, but resolved to stand by his 'decision.'
"Ah, er, that is to say... well, yes. Yes, she'll do quite admirably, I'm sure."