[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: Sewing Room (2F)
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] Constitution
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 2
[color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

        That was a highly interesting song that the Chanteuse was gracing him with. Haunting, yet so endearingly comical somehow. It stood to both focus and amuse Dr. Swamp to such a degree that, upon commencing the stitching portion of his evening, he found it amazingly tolerable. Moreso than this, he felt [i]great[/i]. So much better than just moments ago. Damage was still done, but he felt more whole and full of vigor than he had in a while. 

        [color=7d6c00]"You... certainly have the touch, Amaranthine,"[/color] complimented the Doctor. [color=7d6c00]"I could not have done a better piece of work with it, myself, and I have been doing this for a bit of time."[/color] He could feel the beginnings of shock flowing out of his body and uncoupling from his mind. Be it the song or the delicate hand guiding the needle, Swamp felt better. [color=7d6c00]"If you ever feel the need to dabble in medical pursuits, please consider my tutelage. I daresay you have a much better bedside manner."[/color] 

        Now yhe matter of dressing himself. His shirt was ruined, obviously. If a solution was not made apparent soon, he would have to inquire. This was a sewing room, after all. But not necessary right this second. For now, he merely craned his neck to admire Amaranthine's handiwork.