[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: Gaming Room
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] Intelligence
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 4
[color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	Swamp held his hand out in front of him as if they were a set of scales, and he was tangibly considering options available to him. The question from the Chanteuse seemed a little confusing at first, albeit one that was readily puzzled out. His eyes darted to the cards, where he had placed them back on the table. He shook his head. It was just a minor twitch of his neck that would barely register under normal circumstances, but with the avian-looking mask on the motion was somewhat exaggerated, due mostly to the changing position of the tip of the beak. In truth, it was probably a bit awkward. 

	Judging by the expression on her face and the fact that she was already opening her instrument's case, Dr. Swamp went with the assumption that his Gaming Room companion had already made her decision as to the route she wanted to take. [color=7d6c00]"Only if you wish to play, yourself."[/color] he assured her. [color=7d6c00]"Preferably without interruption from others."[/color] He glanced toward the door, then peered a little harder, hoping to find some kind of locking mechanism. A couple of tentative, cane-assisted steps nearer to it, and he had to admit to himself that he couldn't locate anything of the sort. [color=7d6c00]"Hmm... Aha!"[/color] he exclaimed, grabbing the back of one of the chairs around the table near him and sliding it alongside, half using it to balance himself in place of his walking stick. As Dr. Swamp came to the door, he turned the chair about and used it as a brace underneath the knob of the closed door. 

	Fearing that the action might be intended as a prelude to something ungentlemanly, Dr. Swamp took the opportunity to walk farther away from the door than was Amaranthine and sat at the table on the other side of the room. The distance, he figured, coupled with his own less-than-stellar demonstration of personal mobility, would likely give the Chanteuse ample time to flee the room if she felt the need. He rested his stick on the table in front of him and said aloud, [color=7d6c00]"That should give some measure of privacy. If it is your desire to play, please do. I would feel obliged."[/color]