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

	There was one sentiment expressed by the Chanteuse that made Swamp ponder an issue or two. Not putting anything past "those who do not blink at death". It was curious. What might she think of him, then? While no great soldier, nor survivor of any calamity any more than anyone else, his occupation and chosen field of study had him around death quite a bit. Death was a fact of life. Did he fit into that category as well? Looking at it objectively (a thing he was actually good at), Dr. Swamp did just disembowel and alphabetically order the component parts of the Lord of the Manor with amazingly clean incisions and minimal cleanup necessary, while he was [i]still warm[/i] from his former status of being alive, direct evidence that he had extensive experience with human anatomy and the disarticulation thereof. And he even hummed along to her music while he did it. Does that mean that he fell into the category that the Chanteuse talked about; one who does not blink at death? Or was the fact that he asked himself this sort of introspective question the very sliver of difference that made him stand apart? 

	Better yet, why was he worried about it to begin with? It was strange. Luckily, there were more pressing, life-threatening issues at the forefront. To begin, the amount of time they were left alone to familiarize themselves with their surroundings, lest their host return and find himself in a foul mood. Swamp made some quick estimations. [color=7d6c00]"Provided that Mr. Quinton actually performs all of the actions he indicated; speaking with the new authority about our findings and my offer (with discussion about subsequent judgement), fetching your tonic, and navigating the house in the dark, I believe that we have a few minutes more than originally anticipated. I concede to your wisdom in haste, regardless. Better to have more time than not enough."[/color] Swamp nodded, [color=7d6c00]"I also applaud your foresight and resourcefulness, securing two exits. Although,"[/color] he stipulated, putting on a wearied look, [color=7d6c00]"It's not the servants of the house that worry me, quite as much as the guests."[/color] 

	Swamp leaned on his cane and let the lamp in his hand droop in his grasp. It had been a day to remember, that was for sure. And his attempts to penetrate the mystery of their presence seemed to be garnering the ire of others; though [i]why[/i] the search for truth was frowned upon by the very people it would have [i]quite literally set free[/i] was beyond his intellect to grasp. Well, it would free most of them, anyway. Part of that truth came out just recently, thanks to his ability to do suss it out intelligently, systematically, and scientifically; a thing which might not have been possible without the environment of the Laboratory. 

	That thought stopped him dead in his tracks. The Laboratory. [color=7d6c00]"This facility..."[/color] His words grew hoarser, [color=7d6c00]"Such a place is not generally open to be lent."[/color] No, people who had places like this guarded them jealously, certainly not to some outsider who claimed to be a physician. [color=7d6c00]"Whose laboratory, specifically, is this? I do wonder."[/color] There was a wiry edge of concern in his words. He needed to know more.