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Though Daimyon did seem to wander off-topic with his query about the mask, as Max had told him, it [i]did[/i] lead to the group coming up with a couple interesting possibilities in relation to the identity to the infected. The most intriguing to the poet was the potential that Mercy had become victim to the virus before she was murdered. He looked over his short symptom list once more and tried to connect them to her behaviour just before her death. His spotty memory did not help him in this effort, which alarmed him, since his daily recollection skill was crucial to him. Even slight impairment in that would have been devastating.

He did recall the doctor acting quite merry at the party, taking up Felix's call to a dance with glowing enthusiasm, but he could not draw anything definite on this observation alone. After all, Noel had reacted similarly when the poet had asked her. It seemed unlikely that any power of suggestion was involved—rather, it was merely the charisma of the two men that had earned them the hand of the damsels in dance. Despite this—for him, rational—conclusion, Thomas reinforced the suspicion by mentioning the discrepancy in Mercy's gait. Surely, that could also be explained away with simple overeagerness and lack of practice, Daimyon thought. If he had not prepared his waltz beforehand, he might have looked similarly off-balance.

He had ample time to ponder on these possibilities and potential clues, as the debate focused on two locations: the pharmacy and study, and he was very certain he had been to neither today. Just before he believed he was out of the case discussion, however, Cyrus mentioned a time: [b]4:30 pm.[/b] An exact time, and one that soon rang a bell as he retraced his day further and further back.

[color=seagreen]“Ahem!”[/color] The poet cleared his throat, asking for attention after Noel had finished with what she had wanted to say. [color=seagreen]“During the afternoon, I was in the kitchen, preparing the food that would be served at our gathering. I was...ah, mostly an assistant to a much more talented culinary artist in this endeavour: Bliss. She worked heartily and diligently, and understandably felt exhausted after a couple hours. Thus she left the finishing touches to me and went away to rest up, saying she was feeling very weak. This had to have been around the 4:30 mark, for I glanced up at the clock in the kitchen when she left.”[/color] He could speak with reasonable certainty on that, as it was his habit to always round to the nearest quarter-hour mark when checking the time. It was easier to remember this way and only allowed for 5 minute differences at most. [color=seagreen]“I assume she was Mercy's mystery patient. Of course, she very well might have simply gone into her room. Could you clarify this matter to us, Bliss?”[/color]