[color=silver]. . . 𝓐[i]nd therefore, it's dark in my house,[/i]

							𝓐[i]nd therefore, all of my friends,[/i]

										𝓛[i]ike sad birds, in the evening aroused,[/i]

												𝓢[i]ing of love, that was never on land.[/i][/color]


	“𝓦e do,” Finnegan fell right into line with her words, perpetually looking for an opening to be closer to her and completely missing the part where she -- herself -- allowed it to happen for him. He fiddled with a few nothings on the chair as he made a proper change within his own tone, having noted he had just missed something or another. The gesture deemed itself a bit slow in a strange way as he tried to recall the name of the servant staff on duty. His head was still spinning, but nonetheless, Finnegan stood up and took several steps closer to the embroidered strip of tapestry. It was black and had some Oriental floral design on it. There was something unusual about its display in comparison with the more Victorian and traditionally local styles of his furnishings.

	He pulled the string, and the servant bell rang. There was not much a second when a man came through the door. His bald head was shining as he approached the master of the manner, “You rang, Sah?” His accent was a little more relaxed than the other servants, but his quickness seemed to have justified any lazy slip of the tongue, “Lord Walter and Lord Christopher are doing fine, if that is what you are asking. The other servants are seeing to it. They are currently in the yard, examining something or another or some contraption. I can give more specifics as fast you would like, within reason, Sah.”

	In a twinkling of a mind's change, Finnegan disregarded everything the servant said, “I need our most recent almanac and if you will, inside my study, on my desk... To the left, there is a book, nicely stacked with a list of dates from newspaper clippings. It is brown coloring of leather with a brass and copper wiring,” his hands remained behind his back, showing not as much flamboyancy when reacting to Lady Alysanna. He turned to the lady and whiffed a bit, “Please, before you leave,” he motioned with his eyes at the butler, “Lady Alyssana, do you wish for anything more?”

				[color=teal][i]The potion had worn off mostly, and Finnegan, alas, felt something more so akin to his regular self, 
							had the reader noted any difference in the style of writing -- that could frankly be quite it.[/i][/color]