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Nora was a bit taken aback, seeing King Tut's mummy. She must have missed it the previous evening when she hurried through the museum in search of explanations for the miraculous events that had occurred. Seeing it now, she remembered the talk of the papers with King Tut's Curse. If there was truly merit to what she had experienced, Nora wondered how much of the curse itself was real--though she still imagined it to be the work of men, rather than gods. She could only trust in herself.

Nora caught on quickly to Neema's explanation of the more romantic nature of her relationship with the curator. It was the sort of thing that she never would have expected to hear a confession of back in England. The lords could have previous loves, but the women rarely ever did (or so was the common belief). But of course, she was also struck by the information she was learning about Neema. Had she really just been an assistant? Was that merely a title and not her actual role? She seemed to know so much more than anyone would expect of a kind old woman.

"Am I correct in my inclination that you caused some trouble at that site?" Nora asked, her tone light and soft as always. There was no malice, no sense of accusation. Nora simply wanted to know more about the woman she had come to trust deeply and had been guiding her for the last few hours and the evening before.

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Josephine wasn't about to pretend she didn't notice the man ogling her. She knew they were operating a witch hunt and she wouldn't go down without swinging first. If the man wanted a show, so be it. She began to fan herself, "Goodness, it get's hot in this office, I don't know how you can stand it." Ever so delicately she undid the buttons on her too, letting the goods out a bit more for the show.

She leaned back in the chair, thinking of her next words, "I ask what you would assume if you saw the scene we saw. While we did not see the actual murder occur, the man himself was wearing his clothes with the corpse at his feet. There was no one else at the scene and no one fleeing apart from that man. I feared for my friend's safety and proceeded to access her room via other means. If you wish to know how I can tell you, but really, why bore you with that when there are other ways we can pass the time?"

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“Hmmm ohh.” Mosi quickly noticed the man as soon as he approached and quickly followed suit, greeting him with a slight bow of her head as smiled.” Pleasure to meet you. My name's Priscilla.” She added, not taking off her eyes from him for a good few moments as she was judging something, but her expression was friendly non the less.

“Yes, I was wondering if I'm allowed to take notes and draw sketches of the exhibits?” She asked with a smile.” I'm an artist you see and I actually think that all these artifacts are beautiful, so I wish to draw some sketches for my personal diary if that's alright?” She asked. What she just said was true, but there was also the case that she wished to use said sketches at later date when she goes back into her research. This land was a treasure vault for her needs, if she found a way to get into the right track of pursuit that is.

“If it's not allowed, I understand and won't cause you any issues with it.” She added still with a smile.

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Nothing. For all his time with people in his career, trying to figure out their motives and if their words were true, Haakon just found a stone wall rising up behind the eyes of his interrogator. Not even when another man entered, put down a notepad and a pen on the table and left, did the pokerface man show any sign of emotion. Perhaps he was heartless, or he was simply trying to intimedate the Norwegian foreigner in front of him. In any case, it was disturbing, especially with the bloody pool still in from of Haakon. But he was told to continue, and so he did. With his hands folded resting at his lap, he continued.

"To keep it to a minimal and relevant, Miss Clark and I followed him through the kitchen and upstairs. We witnessed him enter one of the hotel rooms, and it was decided that I stay outside the room while Miss Clark tried to get around him from outside the balcony through another room. It was then that it became appearent what, or rather who he had argued about with the receptionist; a known assosiate of Miss Clark and I, as she and another assosiate appeared to question why I was standing outside her room. When the door was opened, with the given key to the door I must make clear, the murderer stood there, brandishing a knife towards Miss Clarke. The rest you already know, having apprehended him and taken him into custody. A criminal and a murderer was caught, another murder was avoided, and hopefully the first will be brought to justice. And that's what I was doing at the hotel, for that night I slept at the military barracks."

Haakon finished his explaination, hoping he had what was right; give them the information they wanted and enough to let them go, but not enough to cause them to dig further into the case. For he was having deep suspecion that the Non-disclosure Agreement still affected what he said in the prison. Putting it very bluntly, the question was whether he wanted the military to shoot him for treason for saying something they didn't like, or rotting in an Egyptian prison for not saying what they wanted him to say.

Of course it could all end happily and Josephine and him could just walk out of there, but he was starting to become quite the cynic.

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Barracks: "Of course uncle Regi, mums the word," Peter said as he sat there. He was still unsure that perhaps that he and Vera had let their cheese slip off their cracker but it only made him want to be around them that much more to make sure that they were alright. Leaning forward he rested his cane against the side of his chair and then clasped his hands together.

"So, what all do you need to me do?" he asked, ready to get things under way. He had no idea just what his uncle needed of him right then but if he was going to be there he might as well be of help. Sure he couldn't move like he used to and his pain was pretty much constant, he could still do things. Perhaps he would be a little slower than others lifting this and doing that but he would get the job done.

Streets of Cairo: Walking along side Harry, Aziza smiled a bit as she looked over to him. Worry was still racing through her mind but having him next to her put her at ease some. The streets were alive right then and she hoped that the crowds would keep whoever attacked her either too busy to get close to her or she could blend in enough to not be noticed. The thought made her pull her shawl up and over her head, tucking her hair beneath it. There was the thought though that perhaps since she had spent the night at the barracks instead of home that whoever it had been wouldn't even know where she was.

As they approached their side of town, she felt herself getting a little bit more nervous. Her eyes darting about as they approached a corner and turned down the next road. "Get your things first?" she asked a bit nervously. It was clear she was avoiding going to her home for as long as possible. She knew they would eventually have to do there, she had to get her things and her horse but still, a few more minutes delay couldn't hurt. Right?

The Prison: "Heat is good for the skin, makes you glow," the warden said, smiling broadly towards Josephine, so much in fact it was clear that he had a few morals missing towards the back of his mouth. Leaning forward he kept eying her as he ran his tongue over his dry lips. "Oh but this is very interesting. How did such a swan like creature such as yourself get into your friends room? Must have been quiet the feat," he said, motioning for her to continue as he stood up and poured her a mug of water, slipping it over to her as his eyes drifted down her body hungrily.

At this point it was hard to say who was getting the worse end of the deal. Josephine by being obviously devoured by the wardens eyes or Haakon who was locked in a room that smelt of blood and other things. The interrogator leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. "No, continue. Just who was the other associate that opened the door? Their room? And how did you apprehend him?" he said as he sat there. This were the prison folk, not the police or the help from the King's Army that Abbas had been turned over to at the hotel.

The Museum: Looking over towards Mosi, Ahkmed smiled. "Oh yes, of course. Feel free to sketch and take notes to your hearts desire. Our museum is here to educate and for people to research. All we ask is that you do not touch anything," he said. "There are benches through out the museum you can sit on to sketch if you would like or a stool could be fetched if you would rather," he added as he stood there. A couple came over, speaking in the local language before glancing down at the boy in their company. Nodding he replied to them and held up a finger. "Do excuse me, must help them for a moment," he said in an apologetic voice as the child stood there doing the potty dance; it was a universal language.

"Oh, I would never," Neema said in a serious voice before her lips broke into a smile and she chuckled to herself. Rounding the corner she patted Nora on the arm as they made their way down the hall. Stepping towards Vera's office and peeking in, her brow rose a bit seeing the two people already in there. She had no idea who they were but as far was as far as she was concerned, Lauren was Vera. "Is this the right room?" she asked as she looked over towards Nora.

"Lady Kingston?" Vera's voice came from behind them, she was pushing a small cart with a tea set on it as well as some food. Her eyes were blood shot and slightly puffy and her nose looked like it had been rubbed raw a bit. "Oh do forgive me for not being here when you arrived, I was just down stairs retrieving our..." she started to say as she stopped in front of her door and spotted William with his feet on her desk.

"What are you doing!?!" she snapped, pushing passed the door, leaving the cart where it was and storming over to him. "Have you no respect??! For the museum, for history..." she said as she stopped in her tracks. Looking down at her desk she snatched a frame out from under the papers where his boots were propped. Her hand coming to her lips quickly. It was a picture of her and her uncle at the dig site when King Tut's tomb had been first opened. The glass had sheered right through one part of the picture and scratched up her uncles face. She started to tremble as several heavy tears spilled down her right cheek. "Get out..." she growled through clenched teeth.

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As Lauren looked around some more she was respectful and didn't touch any of the papers or anything else that was in the room, she looked back over towards William as he spoke about what he did. Lauren eyed the man up and down a little bit as she inspected him, he really didn't seem to be the archeologist type pf person or a scholar for that matter. Which he did say, but it did feel slightly off as Lauren continued to look around the room. "You look more like the person who shoots first and asks questions later type of person to me." Lauren said with a slight smile.

She then turned her head as she heard an unfamiliar voice and face she hadn't met before, as she asked if this was the right place. "If you are looking for Lady Munn, then yes this is the place." Lauren answered, then she heard Vera's voice once more she heard her mention Nora and smiled to herself. She really didn't get a chance to talk to her the night before when everyone was in Vera's office from the night before.

Then when Vera spotted William in the room with his feet propped on the desk Lauren took a few steps back as she watched her rush into the room. Lauren felt bad that she didn't do anything further to stop him, then that's when she saw the picture frame that was under some papers. She paused for a moment when Lauren noticed the cracked glass in one of the corners telling William to get out, Lauren wasn't sure if it was also directed towards her since she basically had left him to do that or not. Lauren remained quiet as she moved closer towards the door if Vera did tell her to get out as well.

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"What shall you do? Ah dear boy, I haven't the foggiest at the mo, you see. We rather divvied up our little roles, at least initially, as of last evening." Reginald regarded his nephew, a man obviously skeptical of generally everything that the Lord Major had just said. Reginald tried to change tactic, at least until he could get Peter on board with the less believable aspects of recent events. "Consider this jaunt we are undertaking more of an independently financed archaeological expedition. Never you mind the motivation for doing so, at least for now."

"For myself, I have volunteered my services as Quartermaster; likewise I am attempting to obtain appropriate transportation for the lot of us. Though I seriously wonder precisely what some of these persons bring to the table..." He shook his head, thinking back to the previous night. There was a lot of drama, much in the way of confusion. And the camel spider, lest he forget the camel spider that had somehow taken up residence just above his head while he slept.

A thought occurred to him, which he shared with Peter, "This reminds me, pursuant to our discussions last evening, I have put in a request to have you assigned to the Barracks, old boy. I believe that the War Office should be sending you an offer. Accept or decline as you want, naturally."

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Glancing over to Aziza as they walked, he noticed the look of concern on her face as she pulled her shawl up. Glancing around, thoughts trailed through his mind as he watched the crowd. With the streets so busy it was easy enough to be lost in the crowd, but one could still stand out well enough if they let themselves, not being in tune enough with the mood, or being interesting enough to garner attention, well, that would probably not work in their favour if it was their desire to remain relatively incognito, he figured it would have been best if they truly blended in.

Hearing her words as she spoke up again, he glanced over and gave a slight nod, before speaking quietly in a voice only she could hear. "Follow my lead, hm?" Not giving her a particularly long amount of time to adjust to that, he shifted his hand out from hers and slipped his arm around her waist, holding her close to him as he reached up with his free hand to adjust his collar somewhat, making his jacket messier than it was as he let out a sudden laugh, taking on the facade of a triumphant, and possibly drunken soldier, leading a 'lady of the night' as it were, through the streets. He was used enough to seeing drunken soldiers, and soldiers in this exact position, it had been common among his unit when they were in Cairo, so he hoped it'd be enough to let the two properly blend in as he led her towards his home.

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Yawning as he heard the door open over his shoulder, William turned as his eyes set upon Neema, Nora, and Vera coming up behind them. He had moved to remove his feet from the desk and stand to greet them, but not before Vera caught sight of it as she stormed over. Sighing, he stood and was not surprised as she began to scold him for his overindulgence of her office, and poor etiquette. He was, however, caught off guard when she suddenly stopped mid-rant. Looking down at her as he stood there, he glanced to the desk where she had been looking, seeing the frame which, in his callousness, had not noticed before he put his feet there. Seeing the picture, his heart sank.

Guilt was not a feeling with which William was accustomed, he had not been raised in the kind of environment where he cared much for it, and his adult life had been passed through with little regard for how his consequences impacted others. However, in that instant, as he saw the photo, and indeed, what he had done to it, he felt a wretched, twisting guilt in his gut, and he felt sick. He saw the tears on Vera's face, and the feeling only got worse, hearing her words, he opened his mouth to say something, anything, to convey how genuinely guilty the man felt, but he could find no words to argue, to posture, to do anything. Standing there, mouth agape for only a moment, he finally managed to stammer out a simple; "I'm sorry..." In a surprisingly shaky tone, before he turned toward the door.

In almost any other instance, he would have argued her insistence that he leave, he would have lingered, waited for her to get over whatever was troubling her, or worse - joke about it, but in that moment he knew far better than to argue or to try and explain his misstep. Uttering a simple pardon and nod toward Nora and Neema, he slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him as he stood outside for a few more moments, sighing before he began to wander, rather aimlessly through the halls, waiting, and hoping that horrid feeling in his gut would disappear.

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She could tell the man was enjoying himself (perhaps a bit too much?) so she continued. She gave a wicked smile at his comment. "Why, darling, you flatter me. I will admit it was very frightful, but I had to go and protect my friend, you understand? She was in danger and, by all accounts, the man after her had just killed someone. I couldn't sit idly by and watch someone, especially a woman, be victimized. It goes against everything I stand for."

She leaned forward on the man's desk, making sure her...features were still in view. "Since the door was locked, I had my friend Haakon wait outside in case he came out. I found my way around and leaped over into the balcony. The door was unlocked and that is where I found him, waiting for her to show up. In the end, she did show up with her escort and her escort managed to subdue the man until the authorities arrived. It was all quite the ordeal, darling. My heart was pounding the whole time. They took him away and left before Haakon and I could give our statements which is why we find ourselves here, it seems."

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Nora recognized the two individuals in Lady Munn's office: her friend Lauren and the vulgar Mr. Drake. She hadn't seen Mr. Drake since she walked home the previous night, the man running off in pursuit of his latest conquest. Her first impression of him had been the pain he caused Lady Munn as well the previous evening. She couldn't fathom why Lady Munn would keep such an uncouth man around, but before she could explain to Neema who the two people were, she heard Lady Munn from behind, addressing her by her courtesy title.

"It is no cause to fret, Lady Munn," Nora reassured her once Lady Munn began an apology. Her mind caught up with Lady Munn's gaze a second later, before Lady Munn proceeded to scold Mr. Drake for his behavior. It was so like Americans to do such disgraceful things like that...Nora would not be surprised if Fannie did the same. She couldn't understand what her brother saw in the woman--she was wild and loud and boisterous, as all Americans undoubtedly are.

Nora studied Lady Munn's face. There were clear signs that she had been crying, long before she had spotted Mr. Drake with his feet on the desk. His shoes resting on the papers was bad form--but when Nora saw Lady Munn retrieve a picture frame from underneath the papers, her heart sank. Judging from Vera's reaction, it had been damaged. It was no doubt a sentimental picture, otherwise it would not have been kept at her work station. And now, through his carelessness, Mr. Drake had damaged it.

She wasn't quite sure if she could say anything to comfort Lady Munn. Even as Mr. Drake apologized and left the office, Nora doubted that would bring Lady Munn any solace.

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“Ahhh, great!” Mosi said with a big smile as she was given green light to sketch and take notes to her heart content it seemed. This was a great opportunity to take notes of the symbols all across the artifacts so she can research them later for meanings.” Of course, no need to mind me.” She added as the man excused himself to do his work which involved helping the other visitors of the museum.

Finally free and alone, she smiled as she moved over to the sarcophagus taking a look at it from several directions before moving to sit on a bench nearby. With a flick of her hand she pulled a notebook and a pencil. This was the resting place of a pharaoh, so both artistic design was a great thing she wanted to get down. She was also curious about the significance of all the symbols displayed on it.

Thus she started the sketching, from the basic outlines right away. There was a lot of sketching to be done, and thinking things through she had hours to do it.

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Okay then, he wasn't out of the woods yet it would seem. The interrogator didn't seem satisfied with his explaination, pressing the details as to who opened the door, how and who apprehended that dirty scoundrel of an Arab. Haakon let his thought quickly bounce around in his mind; what could he tell? Who could he mention? What would give him either the end of a rope or the blindfold before the fire? But like before, he continued his explaintion, starting to gesticulate with his right hand.

"The police I meant. They were the ones to apprehend him after we took him out onto the street. Sorry, I wrongfully connected you and the local constabulary, still not accustomed to Egypt yet. Anyhow, like I said; the associate that opened the door is a Mr. Walsh, who was given the key by the mentioned associate at the spot. We were both armed with revolvers, mine of which is still being catalouged back at the barracks. That's how we apprehended him, seen as he decided to drop his knife when confronted by us."

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Barracks: "Naturally," Peter said as he sat there watching his uncle go over his work. The military was nothing without its paperwork, in triplicate. The entire King's Army would probably come to a standstill if carbon paper became a rare resource. Peter had to wonder how they used to survive before the black gold bureaucracy was created. How many en sat at their desks copying and recopying forms as if they were new books in the bible. He had to smirk to himself at the thought.

Shaking it away he stood up and started walking slowly around the room, sitting too long caused his leg to stiffen and added to the pain he dealt with day to day; something he was keen on avoiding at all costs. Stepping over to the window he peered outside in thought. "Then it sounds as if we should speak to my dear Vera on just what she thinks we should be acquiring," he said. Glancing over towards his uncle he shrugged slightly. "I have to wonder just how excited she is about this. I know she has always wanted to lead an expedition of her own. Since she was young she spoke about it. To be the one to bring a team to the cusp of discovery and then beyond it. Sweet woman, she must be beyond excited to be readying for such an event."

Gheit el Idda: Aziza's brow rose slightly as Harry asked her to follow his lead. What lead? What was he getting at? She didn't even have a moment to ask when she felt his hand slip around her waist and draw her closer to his strong frame. Her eyes shooting up to his, perplexed by his actions. He had never seemed like the handsy type. Then it slowly dawned on her just what he was getting at as he messed up his uniform a bit and laughed as if he was drunk. So that was his play? To act like two people finally sauntering out of wherever they had come from half drunk a point unknown and more private. The thought at first made her blush as she buried her face against his chest, leaning against him and grasping his coat with her fingers. She was a dancer, she was no actress. This seemed more like a role that someone like Josephine would have been able to pull off.

This was not how Aziza acted. She had never really toyed with the men in the club and never gone home with them that was for sure. Yet as the minutes ticked by she found herself more and more comfortable with the role. Leaning against him more, her hands roaming slowly over his chest as they stumbled towards his home, acting as if she was whispering promises of a long day and night into his ear. At one point she even felt brazen enough to let her lips tease the line of his jaw. Just how much was she acting right then or was it just following what felt right considering this was Harry and not some stranger from the street?

Rounding the final corner and coming up to the entrance of his building Aziza leaned back against the wall below the eave. She found herself catching her breath and letting out a light giggle as she looked nervously towards Harry. Biting her bottom lip she felt her cheeks were warm from the show and her heart was racing a bit. Then she thought about what she had just done, had she pushed it too far? She hoped not. Even though it had been an act, she had genuinely enjoyed being that close to him.

The Prison: "And just who was the associate that gave this Mr. Walsh the key to the room?" the interrogator asked Haakon as he sat there. The man gave nothing away, just sitting there as if whatever Haakon was saying rolled off him like water off a ducks back. There was no indication whether he believed what the Norwegian was telling him or not. He wasn't even taking notes on the conversation, just sitting there with his arms crossed over his eyes as his eyed locked onto Haakon's. Did the man even blink?

Over in the Wardens office, one couldn't tell if the Warden was believing Josephine either but it was more than obvious that his mind was on things far removed from the conversation at hand. "My that does sound exciting. Jumping from balconies, breaking into rooms, following a suspected killer through a hotel. You did have quite the adventurous evening. Now, this friend of yours and their escort. What were their names?" he asked as he pulled out a rather over used handkerchief and blew his nose loudly into it before stuffing it into his pants pocket.

The Museum: Vera didn't acknowledge William's apology, her fingers tracing over the remnants of her uncles image in the broken frame. Her fingers trembling as she sat the picture back down on the desk, letting them linger on the frame before she took a deep breath and turned around as she heard the door shut. Seeing that she was alone with others now and that Mr. Drake was no where to be seen she wiped away the tears and composed herself.

"Oh do please forgive my outburst, truly unladylike. I am terribly sorry for the uproar," she said in a shaky voice. "Lady Kingston, tis good to see you again. This is Miss Ridgeway, I believe you two met last evening. She will be joining us if you do not mind," she added as she smoothed out the front of her skirt and wandered over to the cart. "And who is this?" she asked as she glanced over towards Neema as she started to push the cart over towards the coffee table in her office, which was surrounded by a couch and several plush chairs.

"I am Neema, I used to be an assistant here at the museum. A long time ago," Neema said introducing herself.

Out in the main area of the museum Ahkmed returned from showing the young couple where the restrooms where so their son could take care of a private matter instead of in the middle of the museum. Standing back at his post he watched Mosi for a moment as she began to sketch and smiled to himself. It was good to see people enjoying the artifacts of his nation. His eyes darted passed William for a moment and he gave the man a brief nod. Though they never spoke he knew who he was, having seen him in the museum many times.

Ahkmed's head turned as he was addressed by a man carrying a large bundle of white lotus flowers with a single blue lotus in the center of the bouquet. "لدي تسليم لسيدة مون," the delivery man said to Ahkmed.

"من من?" Ahkmed asked as he looked over the flowers. It was odd for Lady Munn to get any type of delivery to the museum that was not historically related.

"الرب الكابتن كيستون," the delivery man answered as he checked the card. Ahkmed perked a brow and then nodded. He did not know who Lord Captain Keystone was but he did know who the Lord Major Keystone was, it must have just been a miss write or an error in translation. Pointing down towards the back of the museum he gave the delivery man directions. The man nodded, thanked him for his time and headed off quickly to make the delivery.

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Lauren looked between Vera and William awkwardly, she could see the picture had been damaged by the broken glass that William's boot had done. Looking towards William's face, she could tell that the man was honestly sorry for what he had done she was about to say something before William apologized and turned around to head out of Vera's office. Letting out a slight sigh as Lauren ran a hand through her hair as she wondered if she should talk to William or Vera at some point about it later. Then Lauren turned her attention back towards Nora and the new woman who she hadn't met before introducing herself as Neema.

"Don't be sorry Vera, he shouldn't have his feet resting on your table." Lauren gave her a soft smile as she gave the two women a friendly smile and nod. "Nora and I have had a few drinks in the past." She said remembering meeting Nora for the first time, becoming quick friends, Lauren extended her hand towards Neema. "You can just call me Lauren." She introduced herself as she moved over to sit down on one of the plush chairs in the office.

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"Oh yes, quite. Vera has had little opportunity to pursue her own passions in that regard." Reginald grinned openly, speaking to his nephew Peter. "It is troubling that the Lady Munn would have to find herself in such less-than-ideal circumstances in order to get her first expedition underway. Perhaps this is why I am being so insistent that I arrange transportation and provisioning. If the Crown's Armed Forces insists upon remuneration, it shall be significantly less daunting to her immediate financial resources. Not to mention, it wouldn't be the first time that the Military sponsored a civilian expedition whilst out of country. Protecting interests, and so forth."

Reginald couldn't help but glance toward the door to his office, curiosity burning within him. "I say, that enlisted man certainly is taking the long route, getting back to me about overs and unders with supply. Don't ever tell him I said this, but that preternaturally loud Corporal would have already reported in, plus shined the boots on my feet without my knowing by now." The Lord Major chuckled, considering the unintentionally lampooning nature of the man. "Ah, mum is the word on that bit of triviality, as well."

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The man seemed intrigued by her, but she could also detect he wanted information. And he wanted names. She wasn't about to break Aziza's trust so easily. "Now now, darling. I didn't break into any room. The balcony door was unlocked. And I couldn't just sit idly by while my friend was put in danger, could I? The authorities showed up much too late and it would have been worse."

Josephine leaned back in her chair. She was doing all she could to get the man distracted. "As for our friends? Well, Mr. Walsh was there. He was at the barracks with us before we were taken here. Really, darling, this story is at its end. You've caught the man responsible for the death of that poor servant. I'm sure there's something else we could do to occupy the time?"

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As his and Aziza's ploy went along, the two strolling through the streets like a pair of drunk lovers, Harry couldn't help but find himself acting less and less as the time went on. Frankly, it was not something he was particularly used to either - Harry had never been one of the men to take advantage of many of the women who tended to so readily throw themselves towards the soldiers in exchange for money or other such things during the war. Even being a regular at the establishment where Aziza worked, he'd been approached a number of times, but never indulged, he was going completely on what he had observed, and yet, with Aziza, he found a strange kind of enjoyment in it.

He almost felt somewhat guilty, he had pulled Aziza into this with the intention of allowing them to blend in, and now was enjoying it, he almost felt as though he had now taken advantage of her, of her cautiousness in the situation, particularly in the first few moments as she let her confidence with the role grow. However, as it did grow, that guilt began to fade, in time he was unsure if she was even acting any more. As he felt her lips run along his jaw, a shiver ran down Harry's spine, as they began to near his home, he almost regretted that the two of them hadn't taken a longer route.

Moving into the entrance way, he looked down towards her, chuckling softly along with her as she giggled, his eyes watching her as he tried to ignore the warmness to his cheeks and kept his eyes locked on hers. Clearing his throat as he stood there, Harry opened his mouth to speak, and found it stuck open for a few moments as he was lost for words. Closing it again, he swallowed once more, dragging some pride and guts from his chest, the kind of guts he usually needed for a cavalry charge, before he spoke. "Feel free to slap me over this." He said plainly before he leaned forward, placing a hand on her cheek as he pressed his lips firmly against hers, closing his eyes as he allowed himself to savour the moment either until he felt a hand slapping him or herself pulling back.

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Sighing as he wandered through the halls and back towards the main area, William couldn't shape the deep, twisting feeling of guilt in his gut. He hated it, wanted nothing to do with it, and wished desperately that he could perish the thought from his mind, ignoring his own trespasses against Vera as he had done to so many others, but he found that he could not. Sighing, he barely had the mind to even return Ahkmed's nod as he was so distracted, though still found his interest piqued as he saw the man appear with a bundle of flowers, listening to the brief conversation he had with Ahkmed.

William's guilt mixed with anger then, and with jealousy. His fists clenched and his knuckles went white, and in that moment William had almost no desire to do anything but smash what was nearest to him. In fact, the only thing that halted his fist flying into the wall, or a vase, was the thought that it would only anger or upset Vera more than she already had been. He briefly took a step towards the man, ready to intercept the delivery, eager to step on any chance of Peter's courting her. But he stopped himself, or rather - the guilt stopped him. He considered again what had just transpired, and although he knew Peter was a slimeball, he did not know, at least yet, of any instnace where Peter had caused Vera undue stress or displeasure, as he certainly had.

Stopping where he was, William watched plainly as the delivery passed him by and went towards Vera's room. In a way, he thought then that Peter was perhaps better for Vera, that she was better off with the Lord-Captain than she was with the American scoundrel. For perhaps the first time in his life, William doubted himself.

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Mosi couldn't help but spot the big flower bouquet. It was kind of easy to notice, though she did wonder who it was that was going to recieve it. It was quite impressive, she smiled as she returned her attention to the sarcophagus to continue her sketching. It was interesting and real engaging piece of aestetics she was sketching, but there was something eating her from the inside. Yes one else thing she wanted to see, since she was going to be spending a lot of time in the museum from tomorrow on, she might as well first check ehr other interest she wanted to see. Since the real rough sketch of the head area of the sarcophagus was done she quickly stood up, heading over to Ahkmed.

"Excuse me." She called as she approached to get his attention." You museum and all the things put in display are incredible!" She smiled and looked at her notebook with a sigh." Thing is that... well I'm a little bit of a smith. While I do enjoy everything put to display, I was wondering if you could point towards a good example of a k.. ehh let's hope I don't butcher the word if I do, please excuse me.. a Khopesh?" She asked finally." I've only read about them so my curiosity and pride as a smith is eating me from the inside to see a real good example of those type of smith's craft."

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Nora had become accustomed to Neema referring to her as Miss Kingston over the past few hours that she felt a pang of sadness as Lady Munn addressed her as Lady Kingston. She surely had mentioned it before that she did not prefer that form of address, though she usually said it was simply for simplicity's sake. She had far too many siblings. There were her sisters Emmaline and Esther, both properly addressed as Lady Kingston, and then there was her mother Margaret, also properly addressed as Lady Kingston. And once Nora's father passed and the earldom went to her brother Ethan, his wife Fannie would also be Lady Kingston. There was hardly any sort of identity to be held in that title, as well as the title itself meaning nothing. A person's birth was a poor basis for titles, in Nora's opinion.

She had indeed already met Miss Ridgeway, having shared a drink with the woman on occasion. They both were fluent in Irish gaelic, one of the main factors that drew the two together. While Lauren was the child of Irish immigrants from what Nora had come to understand, Nora had learned the language from her nurse as a small child. She had been ill for such a lengthy time that she had achieved fluency in the language.

"Neema has greatly aided my understanding in the events that have occurred thus far," Nora explained. "I must confess, her explanation does clarify a great deal...as bizarre and illogical as it may seem at first." Nora meant no offense to Neema, of course. She was merely attempting to give a reference of sorts to Neema, as Nora knew that Lady Munn would likely protest at Neema's explanations. She had done the same herself the previous night but yet...it was the only explanation presented thus far for everything that had happened. Once the impossible was eliminated, whatever remained, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

Neema's improbable explanation seemed to be the only possible one. It was the closest to the truth.

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"I know she's a local, a dancer in some establishment, but I'm afraid I can't give any name of hers, much less one I can pronounce. All I know about her is that she was with Mr. Walsh when we met, and that she was with him that night at the hotel. I'm sorry I'm not of much use at this moment." Haakon's said back across the table to the man holding his fate in his presumably dirtied hands. He wasn't giving up so easily on Haakon's effort to mask Aziza's identity, and Haakon himself didn't think too highly of his attempts either. But he was trying.

Why? Why didn't he just give him her name and get over with it? There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head, one that had first appeared the night Aziza became distressed at the hotel, presumably because of him. He didn't owe her anything; as a matter of fact, he didn't think too highly of her after she refused his apology that very morning. Still, that nagging feeling told him something. Something that she didn't want to attract any attention. And if they were going on his expedition afterwards, he wouldn't want to have her on his back.

It didn't help that the cryptic None-Disclosure Agreement breathed down his neck. And if that didn't help, he knew that Josephine held Aziza dear, all of which made him lie. Oh yes, he was very, very deep in the shit now.