Barracks: "I know uncle but this is different," Peter said as he leaned up slightly. "Vera and I aren't exactly spring chickens, we have cared for each other for many a year. I was set to propose to her before I was shipped off. Against fathers wishes mind you. I have no want or desire to father an heir. I see no point in it unless it happens just because it happens."
Sighing a bit he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin before he began to weave a tale of his time between his so called death and now. It was not easy for him to speak about, parts of it leaving him visibly shaken. The things she had seen, lived through, it was obvious it had left him scarred more than just physically. Shaking his head he looked back over to his uncle. "Vera's promise to consider my proposal once I returned was the only thought that kept my going. To see her here, now, still without suitor. Call it fate, god, luck, I feel it is right. I may not have a burning passion for her but I do love her uncle and I would rather relive my last years a hundred times before I ever brought her dishonor."
He meant what he said. He did care deeply for Vera and felt a love more romantic could grow between them. He was honest when he said he would never bring her dishonor. He knew how much it meant to Vera to stay out of a scandal. He could care less what people said but he cared how Vera felt. Pulling his handkerchief from his pocket he patted dry the sweat beading up on his brow from when he had recalled the past years to his uncle before shoving it away again. "I simply want a content future with one I know I can sit and speak with even as old age comes crawling in."
Swallowing slightly Aziza leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss to Harry's cheek. Her lips lingering there for a moment as she agreed that there could be far worse ways to spend the day. Taking a breath she leaned back and smiled nervously towards him before rising from her place and glancing around not only at the room but at herself and then back over to Sgt. Walsh. "Maybe we should spend the day doing something else though I can sit here and thank you the rest of the day if you'd rather," she teased playfully as she adjusted her shawl.
A thought came to mind though. "I do need some things though, and I wonder if you would like to change your clothing? Would it be too much of me to ask you to escort me home, just so that I may pack quickly? I dare not go alone but if we are going to be on this little trip with the Lady Munn and the Lord Kingstons...." she said before her words trailed off. "I could never leave Drahl behind, he'd never forgive me."
Museum: Vera looked over to Lauren nearly in shock as she suggested that William cared for her, the idea was simply ludicrous. Yet she felt her head swimming as her thoughts went to that place. It was nothing she told herself, just a knock on the head from fumbling as she always did. Resting her hand on the top of her head she let out a frustrated huff before nodding. "Yes yes, fine. Thank you," she said in an appreciative voice.
Looking over to William her hand slowly left her head and rested into his outstretched hand, grasping it gently as she let him help her to her feet. Nearly tripping in the process and pressing lightly against him as he spoke. She had a dazed looked on her face until he finished and her eyes narrowed. "I would rather gaze into the rotting end of an embalmed pharaoh!" she hissed before her heel came up and she stomped down hard on the tow of his boot.
Turning on her heels she stormed off in a huff. Whatever illness had been afflicting her was quickly cured with a bit of anger it seemed. Sadly her clumsiness was not and she nearly knocked over a vase on a pedestal as she whirled by it. Grabbing it she wobbled around until she finally steadied it. "Oh fuddle...." she said as she let a breath out of her lips and her curls went flying off her brow. So much for making a grand exit...
The Prison: The representative of the prison shook his head. "You can speak with him once we are finished. The warden is waiting and has waited long enough for your foreigners," he said in a less than accommodating voice before snapping his fingers and motioning for them to follow him. The guards that had been with the truck taking flank around the two as they moved through the prison courtyard and into the outskirt building itself. The place was horrid conditions and wreaked of things that were best left to the imagination.
The two were lead down various halls until they came to a corridor lined with doors. He stopped near the end, a door simply marked in Egyptian Arabic on a glass panel stood between him and them. He knocked on the door and after a few minutes and a blood curdling pained scream it finally opened. Being drug by the scruff of his neck was Abbas, he looked as if he had gone ten rounds with Goliath. He spotted the two and whatever pain he was feeling seemed to vanish as his busted lip split into a grin.
His guard shoved him past the rest of them in the hallway and down the corridor before a voice came from the office in the local language. Whatever the masculine voice was saying, he was not happy right then. The representative spoke back before the Warden came to the door and poked his head out. He looked over the two, said a few things after eying Josephine in a most ungentlemanly manner and stepped back into his office.
"Him there," the representative said pointing to a door to the right. "Her, in there," he added pointing to the wardens office.
The Road To The Museum: Neema continued following the cat and the cat continued to lead them until a bell tolled from off in the distance. It was now noon. Looking up as the cat jumped up onto a statue Neema perked a brow. "Seems our little feline friend has brought us to where we wished to go," she said as she pointed to the Museum's front doors.
"Merneith!" a male voice echoed out from inside the museum as the cat ran inside, followed by a slew of what could only be curses in the local language. It was the curator of the museum yelling at the cat before his eyes fell on Neema standing outside. "Neema? What brings you here?" he asked quickly as she cat scurried through his legs and ran off further into the museum.
"I brought a friend that is to be meeting with a Lady Munn, do you know her?" she asked.
"Sons of the pharaoh," he muttered under his breath before straightening his coat and sighing. "Yes, yes, she works here. I can show you where to find her," he added before looking at the two other women in Neema's company. "And you are?" he asked, not rudely, just with curiosity in his voice.
