"Well, you're not being very creative," Phineas remarks. He nods his head at the surrounding crowd. "Scapegoats abound."

"If you say so," he continues, taking his new friend's arm with ease. He certainly does not notice her hands -- he's only a details man in certain contexts of interest -- but in walking together he can't help but realize her height. This person is noticeably tall in their high heels. He even has to look up a bit when he gazes at them from the corner of an eye.

"I do love a spot of good clean fun," he says, with feigned naiveté. "Games of telephone. Braiding hair. Stalking innocents."