<div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/c4/a2/eb/c4a2eb3622a5fd5f4149b8e094a22fa3.jpg)</div><strong>Name: </strong>Danae Vine-Lott (https://www.dndbeyond.com/characters/13428552/mqOlTT)<br/><strong>Location: </strong>The Parlour<br/><strong>Wearing: </strong>Asylum clothing<br/><strong>Content: </strong>Assessing the scene<br/><strong>Tagging: </strong>Open<br/><br/>"Number fifty-one of what?" Danae asked, and she held Margaret by the waist, palm clasped to her hipbone, possessively as she was wont to, like she was claiming a tavern-girl for the night, "and what happened here? Why are the patients masked?"  The flow of questions could not be dammed by diplomacy.  "Do you mean to tell us that among these inmates are the survivors of the wreck of the<em>Charlotte</em>?"  Knowing full well that they would be surrounded, she decided to modulate the tone of her inquiries, "Perhaps you could update us in your own time.  Why is it that these women needed treatment?  There was scarcely anything wrong with any passenger on the<em>Charlotte</em>. The sooner they return to us, the sooner we will cease being an imposition on your generous hospitality."<br/><br/>To the party she said, "Perhaps we should remain together.  Though our hosts are no doubt experienced in their work, we would not want them to worry for our safety."<br/><br/>Then, to Margaret, sotto voce, "I sense she spoke words of power, though I was too late to stop her.  I have you now, never fear." She cooed her reassurance,  as she had soothed many a skittish barmaid.