[right][h3][b][i][color=7d6c00]Dr. Swamp[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Shadowell Forest: Past the Gates (Chair 2)
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 4
[color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	Finding a seat was simple enough. As it turned out, there was one right by the front, and within clear view of the machine pulling them all toward the Manor. The building itself beckoned in the distance, filling the whole of his attention and quite dislodging the transportation machine from his thoughts. Yes, he was there for highly specific reason. He meant to handle his business and return to his work elsewhere. Enough dallying. 

	Dr. Swamp was fortunate enough to have found a more or less comfortable seat within which he could rest his legs. He had leaned his stout, knob headed cane between his legs and was just beginning to settle in for the ride to Shadowell Manor proper, when he got inadvertently dragged into a conversation, of which he didn't recall making any indication he wished to contribute. 

	Point of fact, the baseline effrontery offered by the man in the devil mask narrowed the eyes of Dr. Swamp and made him question, [i]almost[/i] question out loud, [i]who in the imprecise yet actual hell he thought he was[/i] to ask him such a query. Did he not see the man relying upon a stick to assist in his forward mobility, and had [i]just[/i] found repose in a perfectly untended chair? Had he not chosen to sit away from the object of his conversational attention, or barring that, had the lady not chosen to put a seat's worth of distance between the two of them? And who was he to insinuate himself closer to a lady who, by the words she had chosen for the man was looking for an excuse to have a buffer between them. It was not the case that the good Doctor wished to be a hero for any damsels needing rescue, but gave partial excuse for the level of inaction planned for the occasion. 

	Dr. Swamp rubbed his leg just above the knee with one hand, the other calmly upon the knob of his cane. He then leaned forward, mimicking the stance of the man who had just finished speaking to him and turned the beak of his osseous, avian mask toward him. Swamp cleared his throat, so as not to be misunderstood by the conversational nuances of the day, and spoke a single, elongated, stressed syllable, [color=7d6c00][i][b]"NO."[/b][/i][/color]

	Settling back in his seat, Dr. Swamp placed both of his hands atop his cane. He nodded to the lady in full mask and provocative dress to his other side, and looked toward the Manor again. They could not get there fast enough.