Snap.

Snap.

"...ome ..n...Kyle...let's go!"

He jolted up from the leather seat, smoothing his hair to the side as his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming in from circular window to his right.
"Sorry...sorry, sir, it was just..."
"A long flight? A long day?" A stocky, barrel chested man asked with a teasing smile on his face, his salt and pepper hair betraying his age.
"To be honest, sir, yes...yes it has been."
"You'll have to get used to it, Kyle. This isn't the easiest position in the world and there's a reason I've had five of you rotate through my office in the past two years. I'm hoping you're the one that decides to stick around." Kyle grinned sheepishly.
"I hope I do too, sir."
"And enough of the sir crap. We're out of the United States and in foreign territory. As far as I'm concerned, we're two grunts trying to make sure Cairo doesn't have a crater the size of Jakarta from a suicide bomber. It's Paul from here on out, you got me?" Kyle's ash brown hair lilted as he nodded.
"Right, si-....Paul."
"Good. Now let's get off this plane. I'm sick of looking at it."

Eighteen hours of flight time. It had felt like an eternity, although the cushy interior of the plane aided in soothing the grinding journey. It had only been a week since Kyle Lozano, a wiry twenty four year old who had just finished his masters degree in political science, had gotten a call from one of his professors who just so happened to know that his good friend Paul Bucher, ambassador to Egypt, was in need of an intern that could provide a "fresh take" on the tense political situation in Northern Africa. Jumping at the chance, Kyle contacted Paul and was given a rather short interview by the man himself before being accepted. He had been given almost two hundred gigs worth of data to peruse in a few days and Paul expected him to absorb most, if not all of it by the time they landed. Not to mention relocation from Boston to D.C. and then to Cairo...his mind hadn't been able to process all the changes. Thankfully he had a bit of time now, breathing a sigh of relief as he was escorted into a rather plush looking bedroom in the residential wing of the Embassy. It was probably the nicest living area he had ever been in...

"Looks like we made it..." A smirk.

______________________

A couple of days of settling in passed, Paul granting Kyle an office next to his and getting Kyle to read the official State Department's guide on how to handle oneself in a foreign country as a representative of the United States, which essentially boiled down to "Don't be a moron". He was allowed to leave the embassy whenever needed, but he was constricted in terms of time. He HAD to be back by sundown no matter what. The streets of Cairo got, in the words of Paul, "unsteady".

His first excursion occurred a week after getting settled in, Kyle walking past the sights and scents of the urbanized downtown to find himself in a residential area. After wandering aimlessly, soaking in every sight and sound he could, he decided to return to the embassy when he realized that he was

"Lost."

Crap.

Tending to few little trees that were struggling to survive, Samira was bent over one, trying to give it enough water to last the heat of Cairo. Being the only one out, she heard the random footsteps as the stranger walked down the street. She blinked slightly and approached the sandstone wall that fenced their area off. It only came to waist height but it was enough to prove land boundaries where they lived. The house that was behind her was far grander than most of the homes here, wealth being part of the reason she was married off.

Hearing him speak a word in English, she figured he was from the America's. "Sir, help can I?" She asked him curiously. While her English was not perfect, she knew enough to converse momentarily with tourists. Her voice was soft but was thick with her accent. She let her eyes wander over his body, taking in his clothing. He was not dressed like most tourists, nor was he dressed like an Egyptian. she didn't know what to think of who he was.

A question uttered in broken English startled Kyle due to the quiet that had surrounded him, the assistant looking over to find a tanned woman with dark eyes watering the stumpy trees that were trying so desperately to stay alive in the searing heat. He wiped some of the sweat forming on his brow as he approached the barrier between the two and offered her an apologetic smile. She was trying to help, even with her fragmented linguistic ability. He could appreciate her earnestness, especially seeing as Americans weren't exactly welcome in Egypt. Paul had made it VERY clear that they were in hostile territory with "ungrateful zealots" and that Kyle was to avoid interacting with anyone that sniffed of insanity. This young lady, with her soft, delicate eyes and flowing dark hair, didn't pose a threat. In fact, she was rather attractive, making her instantly safe in Kyle's mind.

He cleared his throat, then proceeded to speak in Egyptian Arabic, speaking being a very generous way of describing what came out:
"I go to home...home is left...left..." He shook his head, then chuckled.
"Let's try this again." He muttered in English before jumping back into the Arabic he had crammed into his mind last week:
"Home...Cairo...go back..." And that was the best he could do without sounding like a guttural fish. He then tried English:
"I'm trying to get back to Cairo...can you help point the way?"

Samira stepped back when he actually approached the fence. She had been warned about Americans and their ways. Not wanting this American to be wandering the neighborhood though, she stuck around to listen to what he had to say. She pondered what he was trying to say. He was in Cairo. She wrapped one arm across her waist and held her other close. "You are in Cairo." She spoke in her natural tongue. She lifted her hand to indicate the houses all around her. Her glance went back to him and shook her head. His Arabic was awful. How he ever was let off a plane without being able to speak their language astounded her.

"Market? American Building? America?" She asked him three different locations that he could possibly be looking for. He was in Cairo still, just in one of the residential sections of the city. Her eyes watched him closely as she tried to predict his movements. He was the most handsome American she had seen. Most of them were either balding and old, short and round, or way to muscular. This one seemed to be normal, despite the lack of tan and horrible language skills, she figured he could pass as an Egyptian.

(Gah! so sorry about the slow response time, but this house search is breaking my back!)

"Right, right!" He nodded vehemently, pointing in the direction he came from, then quickly realized that he had no idea how he got into the neighborhood in the first place, so the avenue he used to get to this residential part of the city might not have been the proper way to get back to where he needed to go.
"Not market." He shook his head, then added:
"American building." He attempted to simulate the waving of a flag by placing his arms together and wriggling them, then laughed at the stupidity that he was exuding.
"I hope I'm not being condescending..." Kyle mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck, looking into the woman's kind gaze a moment later. She was gorgeous to be sure, one of those women that one saw on the covers of magazines that claimed that they were the only authority on the "finer things in life". She didn't seem pretentious, although the manor behind her would indicate that her family could have been a part of the snobbish wealthy in town. Curiosity got the better of him and he asked in broken Arabic:
"You live there? Big house? Looks nice." He said with a smile, hoping to at least pay her a compliment for dealing with this strange American that could barely speak her language.

(it's fine, Take your time babe)

Once she heard that he was looking for the American building, she shook her head and laughed lightly. He was a fair distance from there. How he got lost so badly she had no idea. She laughed more at his attempt at the flag. It was pretty retarded, it'd definitely be something to talk about later with her husband, if she dared bringing up that she spoke to an American.

She glanced back at the house she was in front of and nodded. "Yes, my home. I not buy it, husband did." She commented to him as she set down the watering can. Approaching him nervously, she unlocked the gate. "I bring you to American Building. It long walk. Water?" She offered him, going to let him into her home if he was hungry or thirsty.

Upon mention of water, his mouth seemed to instantly dry up. He nodded, granting her a thankful smile as he told her in Arabic:
"Thank you." And then a follow up in English:
"That's very, very kind of you. I appreciate what you're doing." Even if not every word was understood correctly, he hoped that his tone would communicate how grateful he was for her hospitality. There was a part of him that very, VERY hesitant to take her up on the offer, seeing as Paul had been emphatic about not getting involved too much with the locals, but it was only a glass of water, right? What would be the harm?

He entered through the now opened gateway and admired the beauty of the yard she tended. It wasn't as if Cairo had lush plant life everywhere, yet this yard seemed to be teeming with it. He pointed at the plants and gave her two thumbs up, asking in his butchered Arabic:
"Take care of all this? Just you? Great job!" He himself had a terrible green thumb, but he didn't know how to convey he blew chunks at anything agricultural in another language. It was then that his phone buzzed, Kyle holding up an index finger as he answered:
"Yes, Kyle speaking."
"Where are you? I needed those extradition forms on my desk a few hours ago."
"Sorry, Paul, I'm a bit...lost at the moment, but I'm getting back!"
"Just haul yourself back here." After hanging up, Kyle told his new companion:
"Boss mad. No problem, though. I'm thirsty." He then extended his hand, telling her:
"Name is Kyle. Yours?"

She stepped aside when he came through the gate. She bit her lip as she glanced around, hoping no one could see her inviting the strange American into the house. She didn't see a problem with it, she just didn't want her husband to find out. When he complimented her on the garden, she bowed her head graciously. "Thank you. It not easy." She told him honestly as she looked at him.

Opening up her door, she let him in first, following the rules her husband repeatedly informed her. Hearing what she figured was his name, she placed her hand on her chest. "Samira I am." Once inside the house, she lead him towards the kitchen, going through the foyer, the sizeable hallway and into a very modern very large kitchen and dining area. "Water, tea, coffee?" She asked in the best English she could muster.