[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: Grand Vestibule -> Central Hall
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] N/A 
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 2
[color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	Swamp looked a little uncertain now that his face was exposed for the world to view. Wearing a mask for an extended period of time was not outside of his wheelhouse, as it were. People in his profession often found the necessity to don a facial covering as it came to business, be it to examine, treat, or to deal with the miasmas of the dead and dying. He gave a polite smile to Amaranthine and took his avian mask back from her, hanging it over the end of his walking cane. There was no reason for her to have to carry everything, himself included. Such imposition was impractical to her continued assistance. 

	The Chanteuse made a statement that seemed rather innocent. Hopeful, even naive given the circumstances and a few key facts that Swamp was able to assemble for himself, but he could not deny that it was a call for the cessation of their present drama. Such complications muddied the waters of his purpose in this place. All of it did. Now with this bridge being destroyed (accident, sabotage - didn't matter) this whole endeavor was less of a mission and more of a continuing campaign. Short term solutions could not be the priority. There was a related note of surprise, visible in Dr. Swamp only in the form of an arched eyebrow as he heard Walnut agree with Amaranthine. There were details of her words that he knew were ...inaccurate... forcing him to consider that she might be playing the more long term game as well. The whole truth might damn them both. Perhaps that was what Titian was doing all along. Swamp would have to keep an eye on that one. The big man might be more clever than he was letting on. 

	So when the Professor extended an apology, he responded with a simple, and noncommittal [color=7d6c00]"Indeed, Professor."[/color] before continuing into the Central Hall with the assistance of the Chanteuse. This was a meeting place, apparently. A nexus point of people filing from one location to another. And likewise without the barrier of their masks to impede conversation - not that he was willing to initiate any at this point. His desires prioritized removing the bullet from his side and suturing his wound while he was still alert enough to be of use to himself.