[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: Attic (Laboratory) 
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Skills:[/b][/i][/color] Intelligence
[color=7d6c00][i][b]Hit Points:[/b][/i][/color] 2
[color=7d6c00]≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎≎[/color][/right]

	[color=7d6c00]"You are quite the devious one, aren't you?"[/color] both questioned and observed Dr. Swamp. A slow smile spread across his face as he began to regard the Chanteuse in a new light. Metaphorically speaking of course, as the existing light sources were barely adequate for his work in the first place. The dim light, then. And as they both stood in that dimmer illumination of the Laboratory, Swamp raised his hands and began to softly clap in the air in front of him softly, as one might when entertaining polite behavior in an opera. [color=7d6c00]"Bravo, Amaranthine. Bravo,"[/color] he said earnestly. 

	The Doctor did not know if poking around the place would be conducive to building or maintaining a strong working relationship with the masters of the House, a thing which seemed to be in a state of flux at the moment but nonetheless a desired status for Swamp. There were certain facts that made staying put potentially undesirable, however. Certain lines of thought that, when carried to their logical conclusion, made staying put a liability. If the mystery of their presence was to be solved by people who actually wished to puzzle it out, keeping vertical became the priority. It was going to be a long winter, and that was only the most favorable of outcomes in this quagmire of a situation. At the very least, knowing other ways to move throughout the building would be of immense service in case maneuvering in the relative darkness became necessary. 

	Swamp toweled his gloved hands and took up his cane. He regarded the satchel of tools on the worktable for a moment, considering the appropriateness of them, but instead picked up a lamp. It was more practical, things considered. [color=7d6c00]"Very well. I recommend we start here,"[/color] he looked toward the nearest door, [color=7d6c00]"and work in a clockwise fashion, if that suits you, Chanteuse."[/color] He unbuttoned the top few buttons of his coat and folded out the lapels; a practice almost as old as the style of coat itself, signifying that the labor necessary for its use has been suspended for the time being. A quaint custom in his field. He then hoisted the lamp and motioned toward the door. [color=7d6c00]"If it pleases, of course."[/color]