[Here be one time-travelling, conning Casanova walking the streets, flushed with alcohol and the previous hour's liaison with a rather, shall we say, athletic young couple. His contented haze clears the instant he spots the lady in black, and all the working parts of his brain switch into game-gear. Let's play.
Catching up at a pace calculated to be unthreatening.] Excuse me, fair lady, but you seem a mite lost. Not the kinda town you wanna wander alone.