[right][h3][b][i][color=7d6c00]Dr. Swamp[/color][/i][/b][/h3][color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color]
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Location:[/b][/i][/color] Shadowell Manor: Music Room -> Joyous Corridor
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] N/A
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 4
[color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	Swamp looked from the man in brassy devil mask to the man in the beaked Venetian mask, then back again. Beneath his own facial covering of what appeared to be worked bone, the Doctor breathed a heavy, irritated sigh. He raised one hand to his face as if to pinch the bridge of his nose to avert a coming headache, momentarily forgetting that he was still, for the most part, incognito. He let out a single laugh at his own foolishness and shook his head slightly, mood returning to something near its default from earlier. Dr. Swamp rested the tip of his cane beside him on the floor with a muted [i]tap[/i], leaning only lightly upon it for the moment. He cleared his throat and addressed the two other man in the room with clear, solid syllables: [color=7d6c00]"Gentlemen? That was disappointing. Excuse me."[/color] 

	The tap of his cane sounded alongside his footfalls as he made his way out of the western door and into the Joyous Corridor. He swung the door closed behind him, realizing full well that it would not actually prevent anyone from following. It did afford the slightest inclination of privacy, even if it was merely the appearance of it. He cleared his throat again, hoping to acquire the Chanteuse's attention. [color=7d6c00]"Please accept my..."[/color] he enunciated the next word a hair more slowly, as if not fully familiar with the use of it, [color=7d6c00]"...apologies..."[/color] [i]Nailed it.[/i] [color=7d6c00]"...for my part in this. And please do not feel that you owe me anything, Chanteuse. Your music is yours. If you prefer to be alone or in differing company, I will take my leave without ill intention. Otherwise, I might suggest that we explore what places we are allowed in the time available."[/color] Absently, the good doctor adjusted the artistically crafted metallic flower on his lapel. Nervous habit, perhaps, or a strenuous desire to keep things on his person ordered; only he could say.