[right][h3][b][i][color=FFEBCD]Mounte Bank[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=FFEBCD]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=FFEBCD][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Shadowell Manor (Front Gate, chair 11)
[color=FFEBCD][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=FFEBCD][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 3
[color=FFEBCD]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

Opening his eyes after a quick nap, Mounte Bank was taken surprise by the number of people that had taken seats during his nap.  Previously vacant seats have now been occupied by unknown figures. The chattering sound coming from others had dispersed the hushed atmosphere previously and instill some sort of fair in this hostile environment. Unknown people, Mounte fixed himself, but people, nonetheless. And among them, secrets. 

But the secrets of others weren’t the most fascinating thing he found today — except for the welcoming committee — Mounte found himself to be taken surprise that he could still fall asleep during temperature like this. It seems like his body could still surprise him at this very age. That or he had overlooked how exhausted he was after leaving the carriage. Both seem to be a quite promising subject to talk with his cousins over tea time. But first, he needs to walk out of here, alive preferably, and come back to his position. Fixing his attires and dusting the shoes from whatever the weeds that he had previously step on, Mounte begins to compose conversation lines in his mind. Maybe, he could ask others to fill him up about what had just happened on this carriage. 


And he did just so. Politely tap the woman next to him on the shoulder, Bank asked through his mask with the best question he could think off in such short duration. 

[color=FFEBCD]"Excuse me, Miss. But can you fill me about what just happened? It would help me greatly." [/color]

But the confidence in him soon melted as Bank found out that he had forgotten to introduce himself. To make the matter worse, he forgot to bring the hat with him; which in turn making his right arm to look ridiculous as it tried to grab some imaginary objects from his head. The soft voice that was previously given turned to a gruff sound of self-hatred; followed by a long sigh of his inability to make the best possible impression. Letting his head to rest on one of the hands, Mounte awaits for his answer, which seems to be more and more imposing.