[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, Dexterity
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 4
[color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	The first few notes of the Chanteuse struck him as an unexpected wind might, raising his eyes from the paper upon which it was focused. He sat attentive to the music, positive that the only reason he was not mesmerized by the performance completely was the nagging certainty of his overall situation - [i]their[/i] overall situation - of pressing, mortal danger. There was a reason that he was in this place of opulence and wealth, and as fate decreed it, it was not for the reason he intended. Perhaps he could recover the situation in time, but before he could begin this in earnest, the overwhelming allure of the music had taken him. 

	Dr. Swamp could feel his head nodding ever so slightly at the notes as they clung to his senses. Regaining a degree of himself, Swamp allowed his hand to move in response to the emotion and precision of Amaranthine's gift. His hand swept across his paper, trailing a single dark line with each pass, a contrast to the light material upon which it was placed. First long, flowing lines, followed by a series of brief marks that served to illustrate detail. Monochromatic, yes, but done with anatomical precision and trapping an image of the feeling of the moment's emotional content. Dr. Swamp gave the room and its present inhabitants a quick look, moistened his lips with thoughtful pause, and then began to smudge areas of his drawing in a meticulous manner to provide depth and shading where it was needed. 

	He was finishing up right about the time that the Chanteuse had completed her display of musical prowess. His own work was no awe-inspiring masterpiece of epic work, though it was undoubtedly a well-crafted picture; done with a keen eye for detail and hands capable of reproducing that which was witnessed, but more than that [i]felt[/i] in the room for those few minutes. A definitive work that called out the Doctor as an accomplished and well above average artist. Instead of drawing attention to his own work first, he sought to congratulate his fellow artist for a performance well done. [color=7d6c00]"Without peer, madame. Truly without peer."[/color] The Doctor clapped his hands in the air in front of himself with slow, heavy cadence. [color=7d6c00]"It is a spot of genuine light in what is otherwise a dark event; you have my service and gratitude, Chanteuse."[/color] He turned his drawing around and slid it in the direction of Amaranthine, a token movement to invite the young woman to observe it for herself. [color=7d6c00]"I am afraid the muse did not strike me with the uncommon clarity it did upon our first meeting, but I hope this will suffice."[/color]