[right][h3][b][i][color=lightsteelblue]Justice Cobalt[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=lightsteelblue]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=lightsteelblue][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color]Grand Vestibule (B7)
[color=lightsteelblue][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=lightsteelblue][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 6
[color=lightsteelblue] ≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	Cobalt's eyes followed the, he assumed, butler as he turned to the grand doors at his back. He heard the heavy click of a lock falling into place as the front doors were thrown closed, but he didn't look away from the doors that led further into the house. The tension he could feel in the air was almost electric, as if everyone was holding their breath, for all he knew they were. The man that finally stepped through the door was impeccably dressed, almost surreally so, as Cobalt had never seen fabric so little-worn other than clothing freshly-made. Cobalt almost found himself distracted by the clothing, the richness of the black and the sharpness of the crimson, as the man leafed through the invitations, but his voice rung like a bell across the room, shattering Cobalt's focus. 

	The man continued to speak, but the words were like a blur, as Cobalt felt every muscle in his body tense. He had foolishly thought that an escape from the guns and the dogs and the cold would offer some respite, but he was wrong. He was reminded of a fairly charming saying he had heard once that seemed perfect for their current situation. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire. 

	With the situation made crystal clear, and the threat all too real considering their experiences of the evening already, Cobalt's body was rigid. For not at least, the inviting form of Mauve at his shoulder was largely forgotten, his eyes leveled at the Lord of the Manor. The night had taken a turn, and the majestic walls and furniture of the house suddenly had taken on a sour note, the warm air a bitter taste. A cold sweat clung to his skin beneath his shirt, but he ignored it. He could hear several of the other guests quickly affirming their agreement, and Cobalt was not about to be the one who didn't. Speaking as clearly as he could, Cobalt spoke. 

	[color=lightsteelblue][b]"Of course, my Lord. Perfectly understood"[/b][/color]