It was a dark and stormy night, the shutters were flapping against the siding of the house, the fire in the fireplace burned like a fire, casting smoke upward into the tubular chimney pipes encased in brick, while the hot chocolate was hot and choclatey in the mug that Jane Seymour held in her lily-white fingers as she spoke to me in her warm, soft, choclatey British accent whilst they attempted to film a commercial for a skin-care product with her children, who were now climbing all over the sofa and trying to beat me with toy lightsabers (the one kid's lightsaber was blue, and the other had a red one), and I think they were reenacting the duel between Obi-Wan and Anakin on the volcanic planet of Mustafar from Star Wars: Episode III, Revenge of the Sith, and I think I was the personification of the dark side while their mother was the personification of the choclatey good side.