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The Lord Major allowed for the oversight of protocol when Peter addressed whomever was behind the door, bidding the mystery man to enter. Not that it would matter in the grand scheme of things, but he was waiting on word back from two enlisted men on differing matters in addition to his friend from the war making himself known. Still, the slip of tongue was harmless, resulting of an anxious disposition. Reginald smiled warmly and stood up from behind his desk, ready to meet and greet the friend of his blood. If the man was alright with walking alone into an foreign military barracks, his disfigurement couldn't be all that bad. Could it? Besides, the Lord Major was a veteran of countless engagements, touring many places in the world and getting shot at in most of them. He had seen the guts and gristle of combat, noted with chilling calm the horrors that fast-moving metal can do to living flesh and bone. Buried companions, friends, and squadmates in all manner of rearranged and grotesque conditions. Peter had prepared him, and Reginald would do his absolute best to ensure that the young war hero was as comfortable as could be.

The fellow soldier politely entered the room and began to address the pair, though he looked a little surprised to see the older man present. Reginald maintained his warm smile and extended a hand across his desk to greet the former Private Benaszewski, poised to give one of his more poetic greetings on behalf of the British Empire and extend every courtesy to a representative of a political and military ally.

"Yes yes, Mr. Benaszewski. Any friend of Peter's..."

And then he saw the man's face. Well, not his face, so much as the extraordinarily offputting piece of tooled ceramic that was held on by a false pair of spectacles, with its one lidless eye glaring underneath a painted on eyebrow and over a false moustache that abruptly flipped over to a real one on the other, more fleshy side of his head. Doll's eyes. Eye, rather. The man's otherwise humble demeanor made Reginald feel quite the cad, but his initial reaction was to pull away from the unnatural look of the man's prosthetic face (his mind screamed it at him yet again, prosthetic face), to flee from the sight of it and return to kill it with fire, such was his guttural reaction.

The Lord Major was already scrambling backwards, fumbling to say something, anything except for the wordless exclamation that he wanted to, but fate took the opportunity from him. His boot snagged the roller-bearing leg of his very fine office chair, skewing his leg out behind him and to the side. The scream he had intended for his guest's appearance still issued forth, part of it at any rate, as his face descended faster than gravity alone could propel it, slamming into the top of his antique English Oak business desk with a loud, fleshy "...yaaAAHFRAP!", the furniture itself serving as a sounding board for the noise to echo slightly in the hall beyond.

Reginald rebounded from the table to a dead straight stand, trailing blood from his nose along an impossibly fast arch following the path of his very dignified (if now slightly crosseyed) head, hovering in position before gravity yanked the reins of his misfortune, tipping the Lord Major over backward. Stiff and straight as planed lumber, Reginald's body bonelessly splatted onto the floor behind his desk, where he lay for just a second, contemplating what he just witnessed before remarking on it. "By Saint Ignatius's curly crotch-beard! What the devil just transpired!" If he were lucky, it could explained it away as mere happenstance; an accident that resulted in an uncomfortable moment rather than his sudden revulsion to the man's appearance. But he was certain that George got an eyeful of his initial reaction and desire to put distance between the two of them. He felt horribly disappointed in himself. It wasn't George's fault. Reginald could have braced better, or maintained his steely Keystone resolve. But he did neither.

"If the two of you would please be as kind," he started, not moving from the floor, "...do start the conversation without me. I'm an old man, and I need to lay down for a moment. Private! I apologize." Reginald reached into his pocket and retrieved his flask of good scotch, chanced a horizontal pull from it, and placed it awkwardly onto his desk from his much lower position. "Please have a drink on me, in the interim." He felt very lucky just the that their view of one another was blocked. Reginald could not see George's prosthesis, and George could not see Reginald's shame. He did not handle that well.

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Meanwhile, back at the prison...

The good Corporal flung open the back door to the Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, looking as bubbly and accommodating as ever. His smile was one of the dutiful lackey soldier as he responded to Haakon with an overly saccharin, "Positively, positively! Indeed it is, squire, time to go back to the Barracks. Hoping our 'umble accommodations look a bit more smartly then, yes?" He waved the man into the vehicle with a crisp, "Sorry about our lack of ice, but you look as if you might could use a good snort anyhow. Have at it, at your leave." He was of course referring to the small wetbar in the back of the vehicle.

He exhibited less grace to Josephine, owing to her choice of words. Though it could be meant in a manner otherwise, she seemed to pass along an order, and her last sentence about someone else deciding to slander them hit home a touch as he believed her to mean his wonderful, compassionate commanding officer, a man to which he was intolerably loyal. Intolerably. The Corporal squinted his eyes at her in an overly dramatic manner, leaning in just a little even as he held the door open for her. "Sorry, love. Just for a moment you sounded like the Lord MAJOR!" He threw a sideways salute and waved her into the car, whispering, "Refreshments are inside, Miss."

The Corporal hopped into the front passenger's side of the car, owing to the fact that the Legal Officer had taken over the wheel and he didn't feel like squabbling in front of guests. The engine purred to life and soon they were on their way, putting the Cairo Prison behind them.

"You two didn't get the thumbscrews or the butt-spider treatment, did you? Oh, you'd remember it if you did, I'll warrant. They got ways of making people do their druthers, if they think you'd be forgot about. Fair piece you got British friends in town, long as that'll still matter."

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Mosi chuckled softly at Akhmed's comment about her soon to possibly meet new smithing instructor in the local techniques.” It's alright then.” She added with a smile.” I will be here a little while longer.” She added with a smile as the man left to deal with his works. It was only natural for him to have work to do, she understood that. Thus she returned to her sword observations. It was all rather impressive and sparking the imagination. Having seen these works of old, she had all kinds of ideas to design herself a new version of it, a version of her very own.

While she had written down most the parameters that mattered, she realized she had to think of a good material. Those tools of war were bronze since the majority of them were made in that time period. Thus she pondered the use of steel while returning back towards the main exhibit and resume her hieroglyphs copying and artifacts drawing. She found it all so interesting and unique. The way many of these old cultures used art as writing was incredible. It possessed a style equal to anything ancient Rome and Greece had to show.

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Nodding his head towards Aziza, Harry shifted the slings of his rifle and bag on his shoulder as he cleared his throat briefly. "We do, luckily there's one just down the road I keep her at." He nodded, mentally recalling the direction. It had been a mild nuisance initially when he considered he would need to find a stable for Roach, but he had appreciated the fact that he managed to - purely by chance - pick a residence practically across the street from a stable more than happy enough to look after the mare. It would make getting around from then on much easier.

Leading Aziza back out of the apartment, Harry turned and closed the door before locking it, tucking the keys away in his jacket. He had no real idea if he would ever actually return, or when - he'd packed essentially everything that he might have needed, and indeed the thought had come to Harry that he might not return at all. He paused as he stood at the door, hand lingering on the knob as he stared down at it - recalling all too well the same feeling in his gut he'd had leaving his family home for the war. It was many years ago, but as he stood there it felt as if he was living in the same moment, and the dread, sadness and lost innocence gnawed at him as he lingered for far too many moments than he could casually pass off.

Finally, enough time had passed so he could force the memory away, not allowing himself to sink back into it as his fingers slid off the knob, Harry clearing his throat as he glanced back towards Aziza, only flashing eye-contact for a moment before he hurried past as if to avoid any questioning. "Let's go." He said, hurrying down the stairs and onto the street with her, reaching back with his free hand to clasp hers, mostly to keep her as close as he could, as he moved down the block to the stable. It was only a brief talk with the stable-hand before Harry moved into the stable proper and found his horse.

Roach was a Waler Mare - it had not been particularly easy to find the mixed breed horse, but he'd made an effort following the war to get a horse of the same breed that he was familiar with. Approaching her, he smiled as he ran a hand briefly over her head, reaching up to place her saddle on along with his things. Glancing back towards Aziza, he climbed up onto the horse and held his hand out towards her. "Onwards to yours?"

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Briefly spotting Akhmed as he made his way back down to the main hall, Drake returned his nod simply - not bothering the man as he let him continue on his business. Heading down towards the archives, William cleared his throat as he stepped inside and looked around. Not having a guide suddenly made the archives slightly more daunting than he had initially anticipated, but William was used to trawling through libraries of all shapes and sizes for whatever information he might have needed. At that point, he had little else to do - and little else planned, than to learn as much as he could for their upcoming expedition.

He started by looking further into the symbols from his dream. Recalling it all, he flicked through what books he could find on mythology, searching first for any indication fo the creatures he had seen and what they might have represented. The Lion and the Scorpion were most interesting to him, he knew well enough what the Jackal represented after all - that had been ominous, but among the more understandable aspects of his dream, the other creatures? At that point William was still lost, though he planned to remedy that.

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Nora considered whether or not she could repeat such a recitation. It had happened in the first scenario by Neema's prompting, yet could she trigger such a spontaneous event herself? She realized that admitting that she would likely need to have the recitation prompted by Neema would shade some doubt onto her claim, yet it had been the truth. Once Neema uttered those words, the rest fell from Nora's lips almost like magic. It was as bizarre as the appearance of the brand on her finger.

"The recitation was prompted by Neema's utterance of a set of words, as if it was a conditional trigger," Nora explained. "I must confess I have not tested whether or not I may cause the recitation to begin myself or if it requires the actions of another. If Neema would be so kind as to assist me in beginning the recitation process, then I would be glad to allow you to copy down those words. Of course, given that I do not pretend to understand the circumstances in which I said that recitation, it is possible that there are other factors at play in which I do not understand." Of course, that felt like a general description of this entire situation--other factors that Nora could not comprehend.

As for Lauren's apt questions, Nora realized that Lauren had not been present for a majority of the conversations surrounding these phenomena. But given that it was Lady Munn and Neema's area of expertise, Nora felt that it was likely best if she allowed one of them to answer Lauren's questions. She was only beginning to understand the answers herself and did not feel qualified to attempt to inform another.

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The Prison: Alright you three, travel from the prison to the barracks will take this entire round but Lady Luck has smiled on you and has not given you much to worry about. The drive, while a bit slow due to traffic during this time of the day is nothing that brings you to a full stop for a very long time. There are remnants of a cart in a section of the road but it seems to be mostly cleared away. A sight detour passed the Museum will leave you seeing more than the usual number of cats roaming the sidewalks and perched on various statues and walls. Perhaps not more than usual but you are noticing them today. As well as a man carrying a rather large vase over filled with flowers, so many in fact he is having a hard time seeing around them as he enters the museum. You will arrive just at the front gate by the end of post but won't be waved in as of yet. (Sigil, you can bring everyone into the gate by the end of the corporals update.)

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Peter gave a nod towards George as he entered the room, a small smile on his face as he saw his old friend for the first time in many many years. It had been since before he had vanished that Peter had been able to talk to George and since his return he had not contacted the man as of yet. He had meant to but his mind had been to so many places, so many things he wanted to say, so much he felt that needed to be said in person and not through some western union telegram that he had kept putting it off. As surprised as he was to see that George was in Cairo it raised no alarms with the Englishman. George had a way about him and if he had caught word of Peter still breathing, he surprised him not that he had sought him out. George was loyal to what friends he had, to a fault even. "George," he said and was about to introduce him to his uncle when his uncle's little debacle happened.

It did not surprise George in the least the way that the older gentleman reacted. Though he couldn't be sure if it was him that had caused the incident or something else, George would have been willing to lay a rather sizable bet that it was indeed him. "Mmm, you seem to have fallen," George said quietly, the gravel in his voice coming through but there was a bit of humor to the half of his face in which he could express anything. His head lowering slightly and turning to peer towards Peter through his one good eye.

Peter's eyes widened. He had tried to warn his uncle but it seemed that he had not warned him enough from the looks of things. Clearing his throat he stepped over towards the desk and took the flask from his uncle as he leaned against his cane. "Uncle, did you perchance slip on the tea that was split earlier? Did they not clean up the happenstance properly?" he asked, trying to give his uncle an out for his reaction and somewhere else to lay the blame.

A guttural chuckle came quietly from George's lips. "Tea, mmm, yes, deadly, mmm," he said as he stood there, pulling his page boy cap from his head and fiddling with it between his fingers. Peter had to stifle a choke as he tried to take a pull from the flask before warbling over towards George and handing the flask to him.

"Quite," Peter said as George took the flask and kept looking towards the desk where Reginald was laid out behind. "George, let me have the honor of introducing you to the Lord Major Keystone, my uncle," Peter added as he tried to move on.

"Yes, Reginald, mmmm, you spoke of him frequently, mmm, yes," George said quietly before handing the flask back over to Peter without taking a drink from it.

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Vera looked up from her cup of tea after taking a small sip of it. "Oh Bastet, she was thought to be a truly unique goddess in Egyptian religion. Daughter of Ra, the Sun God. An exceptional goddess even among the pantheon for such a wide polytheistic religion. You see, with most Gods and Goddesses of Egypt there seemed to be set with one task to tend to or perhaps several but Bastet, so many. Women, children, pregnancy, fertility, healers, sorcerers, magicians, the sun, the moon, joy, protection, love. The list does go on and on for her. She was even looked at as the protector of the Pharaoh, whom the ancient Egyptians thought was the physical form of Ra. A daughter guarding her father and all that was Egypt. She is the reason why Cats are such praised beings among the Egyptians even to this day. Any feline really. Remarkable to myself that such a feminine figure was so revered for not only the female side of the genders but so much strength as well."

The librarian seemed as if she could babble on for days about Bastet. She probably could if she if she was left to her own devices. Bastet was the most intriguing of Gods to Vera. Turning her attention to Nora as she explained a few things she glanced over towards Neema whom was nibbling on a finger sandwich. "Oh yes, of course," Neema said as she pulled the small food away from her lips and set it down on the saucer next to her tea up. Clearing her throat a bit, she began to speak. "An au unna ni Peta, en Ta: resu meh mehta, meh amenta, meh abta; U-en-kua em kshat-ten. Nuk eh-b em maat-pv; un mit-a nem."

Vera's brow shot up as Neema began to speak, that was Ancient Egyptian, not like the modern that was spoken in the streets but far more removed from today's language, it was a language all unto itself.

Over at the front desk Akhmed stood there, seeing several come in already for the position but not one had made the basic requirements and he had sent them off post haste with nothing more than a thank you for coming exiting his lips. As the delivery man came in he rose a brow seeing the monstrosity of flowers and he couldn't help but chuckle to himself as the man made his way directly passed the desk with a nod and headed back towards the administrations portion of the museum. Down in the archives there was not much on the way of reading material, most just items that had been retrieved from previous digs and that would go on display from time to time or were there for research purposes. Actual texts and translations, those were up with Vera in her office, well what passed as her office - the library itself was just beyond it yet one had to go through her to get to it. That would prove... interesting.

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Aziza moved quickly, staying close to Harry and lacing her fingers with his as they made their way from his apartment to the stables where his horse was kept. Standing there as he spoke to the stable hand and retrieved Roach she looked around nervously. A slight breath of relief came from her lips as he came back and held his hand out to her to get up onto the horse. Nodding slightly, she, with the help of Sgt. Walsh climbed up onto the horse and settled herself down in front of Harry. Normally if one was riding and another controlling the horse one would sit behind the person in control but Aziza did not feel safe enough right then to have her full body exposed like that. She hoped that perhaps sitting in front of him would keep her from being as noticed by people and as easy to identify by those they would be passing.

Resting herself down she relaxed a bit and leaned back against Harry as they made their way away from the stables, giving him directions as they went. As they went Aziza found herself relaxing more and more. Something about being around him put her at ease and the more she thought about them leaving Cairo for places elsewhere the more she liked the idea. Getting away from everything, even if it was to try to learn more about the markings that had appeared on her necklace, was a welcome change. She would still be in the country but hopefully far enough away she wouldn't need to watch her back constantly. It didn't take long before they were in front of her building. "Here we are," she said softly as she looked over to him and waited for him to dismount and help her down from his horse.

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Haakon was taken back by the over-the-top positivety that emmited from the Corpral and his cheery reply to him. It didn't help with the sheer amount of words that was projected from his mouth, some of which flew straight over Haakon's tired head. But Haakon wasn't in a mood, nor state to ask for clarification, and for now silently got into the car. Finally, a good seat to rest his sorry ass for once.

But as the car started moving, the Corporal seemed overly curious as to their methods of interrogation; ways that Haakon in all his career had yet to hear about. And of course he was kind enough to drop a little reminder that they had 'British friends' in town. "That's one way of putting it, Corporal. But no, they just asked us a series of questions about last night's events, so I hope that we'll never have to set our foot inside that establishment again." Haakon said with a tired voice to the Corporal, not wanting to talk too much about it. In hopes of not having to continue the conversation, he tried to look out the window at the passing scenery.

Cairo appeared more or the less the same as Haakon had experienced it by now; crowded and boiling hot. The car did move, albit sometimes with a few stops here and there, including the circumnavigating of a cart in the road. What had happened to it? The natural curiosity in Haakon wanted to know, though he figured it was nothing newsworthy. Not the cats, nor the walked vase of plants either...

"Wait, what? Jo, isn't that the museum? What on Earth is that man carrying so many flowers there?"

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Soon Mahendra was there; standing in front of the Egyptian Museum, perhaps the finest collection of knowledge in Egypt beside the Great Pyramids themselves. And if it was meant to be, hopefully it could become Mahendra's workplace for the unforseen future. The Bengali could only hope, as he pulled out his wallet and looked a small piece of paper stating his education and profession.

That was if he could get past the vast amount of cats that seemed to have taken up position around the Museum. "That's...odd..." Mahendra said to himself, trying his best to make his way past and over several cats. But for one cat, he stopped. He bent down and gently petted the cat, smiling. "If you are an omen, little cat, I hope it is a good one. Wish me luck, little protector of Egypt, please?" It might have seen odd for the foreign man to speak so serious to a simple cat, but Mahendra knew the cat's position in Egypt; what was the worse that could happen to him?

Stepping over a few more cats on his way, Mahendra finally walked into the Museum. Standing at the desk in what Mahendra assumed was the reception, he saw a man be rather amused by what he could see were walking flowers. No wait, a man carrying a vase of flowers, he was mistaken. An odd sight indead, but that was none of Mahendra's business. Taking off his hat and giving an audible cough, he tried to get the desk man's attention. "I'm sorry if I'm intruding, Sir, but I'd like to apply for the position of 'Junior Archeologist'." Mahendra said to him, feeling the suspense growing within him.

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As Lauren sat there she reached over to grab one of the finger sandwiches that were on the table feeling slightly hungry as well as taking a sip of her tea. Her attention turned over towards Vera as she started to talk about Baset, though she was new to learning the culture the goddess seemed to be very interesting to her as well. "She does seem to be a really interesting goddess then, to have so many responsibilities." Lauren said a woman these days didn't really have that many rights at least to her, it took a really long time for her mother to become a nurse as well.

Taking another bite from the sandwich, Lauren looked towards Neema when Nora asked her to recite something for them. Lauren wasn't even sure what Neema was reciting, she looked towards Vera when her eyebrows shot up it seemed to catch her interest, though Lauren remained fairly confused. "What exactly is being recited, sorry I haven't picked up the native language just yet." Lauren said softly.

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She just wanted everyone to stop talking. Really, a simple drive back to her residence would be nice, but that would not be the case. The Corporal, while he seemed a likable sort, was getting on her last nerve. Especially when he continued to shriek like that.

She rubbed her temples. She felt a headache coming on. She wanted a smoke, but she opted for a drink as they were provided. Haakon seemed no worse for wear, thankfully. She wanted to put the whole prison behind her. Whatever methods they had that they might have incorporated she didn't want to think about. Nor did she wish to think about the situation she would have been in had she not been allowed to leave.

She felt a cold shiver take over her. She enjoyed a good romp in bed as much as the next girl, but there were limits.

As they drove, they passed by the museum, where this little adventure pretty much got its start. She noticed a number of people and, along with Haakon, the gentleman carrying flowers. "Maybe it's another admirer of Lady Munn? She seems to have no limit on the amount of suitors aiming for her." Though she knew deep within her that Lady Munn and that Mr. Drake truly felt for each other, she wondered if Peter would get his way.

That would be revisited. Right now, she wanted to relax. Even for a bit.

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Still laying supine upon the floor of his office, Reginald sighed. He could feel a warm rivulet of blood slowly descending the side of his face, courtesy of his very dignified nose making forcible contact upon his grandiose English Oak desk, thanks to his own lack of propriety. He had even braced for it, and failed miserably to hold his demeanor together for the sake of receiving a visitor, and good friend of Peter's to boot.

It was not the fault of the horribly disfigured man. As an Officer of the British Military, one of experience and renown, Reginald should have been able to handle this as a trifle of an undertaking. He had seen men hurt and shattered in the line of duty to the Crown, but it was generally during the fight or just after, when the blood was still hot and one expected to see carnage. The painful, wet messiness of battle was what the Lord Major had witnessed. Not the effects of it years later, and certainly not the actions taken to (ironically) normalize the excessively afflicted.

The Lord Major reached for a pocket square, dabbing the blood away from his face before it reached his ear and/or threatened to stain his clean, pressed collar. Then gingerly, he inspected his nose. The level of pain that his nerves reported back was not on par with that expected of a bone break. He should know; Reginald had been in more than his share of brawls and less-than-gentlemanly altercations in his long and varied history. A busted nose every now and again was part of the territory. Luckily, this was not the break he had been fearing. A moment of pressure in the right spot would have the flow of crimson stymied in no time.

Immediately after that quiet moment, an aged but still strong hand rose from behind the centrally positioned desk and quietly clamped onto the side, pulling along the ascending Lord Major. "Yes, deadly tea, quite..." he murmured quietly, appearing to agree with the assessment of his guest. He then appropriated a look of revulsion; this time not for George, but for himself and and dishonest road with which he began the conversation. "No. Heavens no. Sir, I owe you a great apology. While the unfortunate fall from which I have just recovered did happen quite by accident, it would not have were I to have maintained the fortitude and worldly understanding demanded of my family and my position, let alone the basic compassion that any human being should exhibit. I have acted woefully, Mr. Benaszewski, and I apologize. If you might be able to forgive my potentially continuing failings as I acclimate to your presence, I shall remain at your service in any way that is reasonably appropriate."

Reginald held out his hand to George again, this time more steady on his feet. "Perhaps we ought to start again, sir. I am the Lord Major Reginald I. Keystone of His Majesty's Royal Military, Commanding Officer of the Qasr El Nil Barracks and Airfield, representative of the Crown here in Cairo. Perhaps we might renew our discourse with a spot of tea? Or perhaps something stronger, if it is to your liking?"

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The ride from the Prison to the Barracks went relatively smoothly, except for the occasional hold up with traffic. The legal officer behind the wheel said nothing for the longest time, while the Corporal made some offhanded mention about the waning influence of the British Military here in Cairo. "Oh, we still got a big stick 'ere in Egypt, mind ya, but its not like before, you see. Social change on the winds, it is."

Nearing the Museum very close to their destination, the number of stray or otherwise present felines seemed to multiply, with many milling about or perched everywhere there was room to do so, almost as if waiting for something. The soldiery was uncertain as to whether it was the immediate cause for the detour, though Legal made mention of it in a derisive manner, leaning over to the passenger's seat, "Looks like the derelicts will be eating good tonight, eh Corporal?"

"Oh, no sir!" he retorted. "We loves the cats around here, smell notwithstanding when you get a group of 'em in one spot. Chase the rats away, they does; keeps all sorts of nastiness like the Pox at bay. Egypt don't need more plagues, I'll wager."

As they finally made their way to the main gate of the Barracks, the two garrisoned soldiers ensured a smooth transition inside. Once the gates closed behind them, the Corporal spoke up again. "Right then! I'm going to go check in with the Lord MAJOR! I advise you lot do the same once you're all freshened up and whatnot. Rooms from last night been touched up, or should o' been by now. Good day to ya!"

With that, the Corporal began jogging off to return to his duties, leaving the Legal officer to replace the car in the Motor Pool and the two passengers to fend for themselves.

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Looking at these ancient crafts made Priscilla really appreciate the skill of those ancient folk and also feel like eyerolling at near everything made nowdays. She had seen paintings, she had seen sculptures from people of and around her generation. Most in her eyes lacked a certain spark that ancient artifacts had.

She was adding a few finishing touches on her sketch of the sarcophagus when a revelation came to her as she quickly moved pages on her little notebook to write in haste a few words on the page of her measures and notes on the khopesh. It was going to be a grand thing when she starts working on hers. In reality she found that weapon design had a lot more utility than the standard longsword she was used to. Yeah she was going to give it a try when she crafts it.

'Hmmm... enough for now. Might as well see the rest of the museum.' Mosi smiled to herself and put her notepad away, just deciding to head right and start a small tour. She was going to go at them counterclockwise. It was bound to take a day or two to slowly see the entire museum, but she had time.

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It took Harry a moment or two to adjust as Aziza chose to sit in front of him instead of behind, but he was able to do so well enough, his arms around her helping to keep her steady as he held the reigns. Leading the horse out of the stables and down the street, Harry kept Roach moving at a reasonable trot, following the directions given to him by Aziza as they moved through the streets towards her home. He kept her close to him and found himself somewhat appreciating the fact she was in front of him as they went along, realizing that the two of them had far less of a profile this way as they rode. Certainly, they were getting some attention from the fact they were horseback, but one would have been hard-pressed to get a clear look of Aziza at least this way.

Before long as they reached her building, Harry carefully and slowly brought Roach to a halt in the street, looking up at the building for a moment or two, briefly comparing it to his own. Leading Roach over to a post, he carefully climbed down from her back and reached up, taking Aziza's hand and carefully helping her back down to the ground before he took Roach's reins, tying her off on the post and giving her head a short pat before he turned to Aziza, motioning to the door. "I can lead the way if you'd prefer." He commented, unsure how concerned she was of returning home.

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William sighed as he searched through the Archives to relatively no avail. He had known that Vera, of course, looked after most of what he was searching for, but he had hoped there would be something, anything down here, so that he would not have to deal with the relative awkwardness and embarrassment of returning to her office just then, after the rather dramatic turn of events which had led to him leaving it in the first place. Momentarily, his thought returned to the guilt he had felt, his eyes sunk for a moment, and he figured it would be too improper to return to her office then, he had made a severe slight against Vera, even though it had not been of his own will, but then again, what else would he do?

Sighing, William ran a hand through his hair frustratedly as he thought. If he returned to Vera's office, he risked insulting her again after she had demanded he leave the office - but he needed to get through her office to do the work he needed to do before their expedition. Thinking on it for some time, he eventually figured that Vera would have been surprised and possibly even impressed enough at his actual preparedness and willingness to work that she would be able to at least partially forgo the slight against her. Sighing, he turned back to the door he'd come from, heading back up and toward Vera's office, unaware he would arrive at the same time, if not shortly after his delivery did.

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"At-a em kshat-ten; aru-a em kshent-a; nuk un rekesh-eksh-eth; teseriu hra-sen er-a. Nuk unv!" Nora said, her eyes a bit wide with terror once more as she spoke not of her own accord. The experience was still as terrifying as it had been the night before. A new fear was slowly beginning to engrain itself into Nora--the loss of control over her own body. While she had been crippled by sickness before, she still was able to determine the actions she took. But with this, some ancient tongue felt as if it temporarily controlled her, causing Nora to utter words that she was clueless as to their meaning.

Nora was as in the dark as Lauren was when it came to the languages of Egypt. She spoke Irish and English. Anything more than that required careful hours with a plethora of reference texts, just in order to decode meaning from various symbols. Despite living in Cairo for well over a year, Nora had not picked up the native language. English had sufficed thus far and she far preferred to focus on her studies of mathematics in her minor capacity of an assistant to her father with his work.

"I do not understanding this language either, Lauren," Nora admitted, wishing to show a bit of solidarity with her friend. She had known Lauren longer than she had known anyone else currently present.

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Peter had given his uncle a way out of the mess but he had not taken it. It did not surprise him and it was in line with the way his uncle acted on a normal day. One of the reasons Peter did admire his uncle. He simply nodded as Reginald explained exactly why he had fallen and glanced over towards George. George stood there, fiddling with the rim of his page boys cap, his head tilted down and to the left some so the masked side of his face wasn't immediately in the line of sight of the Lord Majors. Part of that was to hide the damage, part of that was just to make it easier for George to see him out of his good eye.

"Tea..mm... Yes. Cold and sweet," he said as he locked eyes with the Major. Peter held his breath and looked sharply at George for a moment, looking quite stunned that George had just suggested to an Englishman that tear should be served that way. He might as well chucked crates of the fine leaves into Boston Harbor right before the Lord Majors eyes. George's eye went to Peter and the smallest hint of a smile came to his lip. "Ha...ha...mmm, you gull," he said in his raspy voice but there was a chuckle in his words however how rough it came out.

Peter started laughing. "You swine!" he laughed as he thumped his cane tip on the floor a few times before patting George jovially on the shoulder. "George will have earl gray with lemon," he told his uncle still chuckling over the joke that George had just pulled on the both of them.

"Yes, very nice, mmm," George said still with half a smile as Peter showed him a seat. Resting down slowly he placed his page boy cap over one of his knees and tried to keep his face turned in such a way that it was mostly hidden from Reginald.

"George does love to pull my leg," Peter said taking a seat.

"Leg pulling, quite. Speaking of, what happened to yours?" George asked as his eye went to Peters leg and then his eyes in question. That was going to be a long story.

Out in the barracks, people were rushing around doing their normal duties and the two that had returned from the prison had their guards on them before the Corporal had even gotten three feet from them. The legal officer was there with them and he eyed the two for a moment before he spoke. "I do hope everything has been taken care of. Is there anything the King's Army needs to be made aware of?" he asked as he pulled out a pack of cigarette's and lit one up before holding out the pack and offering both of them a cigarette.

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The cat meowed at Mahendra and sat there watching him. Inside the florist delivery man quickly made his way towards the door of Lady Munn's office and gave it a sound rapping. "Yes, yes, come in," she said not wanting to tear her attention away from Neema and Nora but they were as the door was pushed open and the man who had delivered the flowers from Peter earlier was whisking his way back into her office and setting down the rather over sized new delivery on the table in front of her. "Sons of the Pharaoh! What is all this?" she asked, looking rather surprised. She had never had flowers delivered to her before other than for a funeral and now she was being handed a card with no explanation from the delivery man, just a wink before he left quickly.

Opening the card she looked rather confused. "Sir Francis Drake?" she muttered as she read the card. It said nothing more except that name on the paper. Why was she receiving flowers from a dead man? A pirate none the less. Then her eyes narrowed a bit. "Mr. Drake...." she followed up with, growling slightly under her breath as she folded the card promptly and tucked it back in the flowers. What kind of game was this man playing? He had never shown her the slightest bit of interest, only seemingly to enjoy tormenting her and make her stumble over herself constantly, as if she needed any help with that. And NOW he was having flowers delivered to her? What this a bid for her affection? An apology? Or was it simply because Peter was back now and pursuing her properly and Mr. Drake thought it would be funny to try to out do the Lord Captain and make her doubt herself even though he had no true feelings towards her. It was just the type of cruel joke an American Grave Robber would find funny.

"I will deal with this later..." she finally said turning her attention back to Nora and listened carefully, glad for the distraction. Her eyes widening a bit as the conversation continued.

Akhmed looked over towards Mahendra and shook his head. "Not one bit sir. I am Akhmed and I am here to help," he said in his thick accent. "May I ask to your name sir and what ever credentials and references you have on you? A resume if you have one as well," he added as she glanced towards the door. He was hoping that the messenger he had sent out for Mosi would return post haste with an answer to his request. He wished to have one before the lady or Neema left the building for if the answer was no, he needed to speak to his friends aunt. If the answer was yes he wanted to make arrangements for her as quickly as possible.

The delivery man was very happy that he had been able to make the delivery as quickly as he did and was even more pleased when he spotted Mr. Drake coming around the corner. He had been promised even more money if he delivered it himself. "Sir, sir, Did as you asked. Such a beautiful and large bouquet in a stunning vase was just delivered. Makes the other look like a pauper purchased it. Delivered and signed as requested. She look absolutely gobsmacked," he said brightly as he held his hand out to William, obviously looking for the money he had been promised.

Vera's eyes continued to widen as Nora began to speak. Neema nodded in a satisfactory manner while Nora repeated what she had said earlier. It was just confirmation in her mind that what she had spoken to Nora earlier was true. Vera kept staring at Nora but she finally spoke after a moment, stuttering a bit as she spoke. "It.... it is a prayer, very ancient." Blinking a few times she finally tore her vision away from the Lady and looked over towards Lauren. "Yes, yes, a prayer, to Bastet," she added as a light bulb seemed to go off in her mind and she stood up quickly. Her saucer and tea cup falling from her lap and onto the floor with a splash and a clatter but she paid it no nevermind. Her hand was already reaching out as she went towards the back of her office, towards the library shelves and started searching for a book.

"If ye are in heaven or on Earth, in the south or in the north or in the west or in the east; I am the only One in your bodies. I am the pure one of eye, not shall I die a second time. My moment is in your bodies, all forms are my habitation, I am she who is not known; the rosy-faced beings are within me. I am the Unveiled." Vera recited as she pulled a book from the stacks, knocking over several others that were on the floor for re-cataloging. She tripped but her nose was in the book and she didn't pay attention to it as she kept stumbling over them but eventually made her way back over to her seat and sat herself as if nothing had happened.

Neema had already reached down and cleaned up the mess, her eyes watching Vera and going to the other womens from time to time. "How has she not broken her neck?" she whispered loud enough to be heard but Vera still wasn't paying attention as she flipped through the pages.

"Ah-ha-ha-haha! Here it is!" she finally exclaimed as she opened the book more fully and laid it out on the table so that Nora and Lauren could see. On the pages was a long photograph of stone carved markings. The caption under the photograph said the following: Bubastis, 1898. "This is that very prayer at the entrance of Bastets Temple. This is where we are going!" Vera exclaimed, she looked like a child on Christmas morning. Her eyes were bright and she was very enthusiastic on the find. Though if one were to enter right then they might believe it was the flowers that were causing the stars to shine in her dark eyes, not the thought of leading an expedition into the desert.

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Aziza smiled gratefully towards Harry and nodded. "Yes please, second floor, only door," she said quietly as she held out the key to her home for him. Her building was a bit more upscale than Harry's had been and even with her talents seemed to be a bit above her pay grade. There were several people mulling about the shop on the main floor that was below the apartments just above it. Two of them were in British Military Uniform and seemed to be on patrol.

"Miss, is every alright?" one of them asked as he eyed Harry.

"Yes, this is a friend," she said before giving a vague explanation and motioning for Harry to go ahead and lead the way. Soon as they were out of ear shot she smiled towards Harry. "Escorts from the barracks. They come around from time to time to check on me. The Lord Major is a good friend," she explained as they ascended the stairs. Everything looked alright as they did until they reached her door. It was cracked open and looked as if it had been kicked in. Aziza's color rushed from her face as she turned white and froze in her place.

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Lauren watched as Nora started to say something in an unknown language as far as she knew it certainly wasn't Gaelic that she and Nora both knew and talked from time to time in her father's native language. Seeing the shock and surprised look on her face she, knew that her friend was shocked at even saying the words. Then she heard a knock on the door turning her head to look over at the door Lauren saw the same flower boy coming in carrying a much larger bouquet of flowers. At first Lauren didn't hear who it was from, but when she mentioned that it was from William then she picked that it was him who sent the second set. It looked like it was his own way to try and apologize for his actions earlier when his feet were resting on Vera's desk.

Vera started to repeat what Nora had just said then she confirmed that it was some sort of ancient prayer to the goddess, Vera then suddenly dropped her saucer and tea onto the floor. Lauren was about to get up and try to pick it up but Neema had beaten her to it, watching Vera stumbling and nearly tripping to grab some sort of book knocking down a few more in the process. Lauren looked towards Neema when she said it and shrugged slightly but also trying to hold back a slight laugh. "I haven't the slightest clue." Lauren said softly back, she didn't want to be rude to her friend, but it was the truth someday she would end up falling down a flight of stairs.

Vera then set a book down onto the table she leaned forward to get a better look at it seeing the photograph then her attention turned towards Vera and gave her a friendly smile. It was actually great they had more information that would be needed for their little expedition out into the desert. "This is great news then." Lauren smiled happily.

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More suitors? If there was one thing Haakon didn't need more of in their little 'Fellowship', as the Lord Major now called them, it was men trying to gain Lady Munn's hand in competition amongst each other. Two were already more than enough considering what Haakon thought of at least one of said suitors. The whole situation that they were in demanded determined action and thoughtful thinking, not beating hearts and overly-filled vases of flowers. It made Haakon sigh audibly, though the Corporal's continuous speaking didn't help either.

Thankfully they made it back to the barracks, more than Haakon could have asked for when he thought he was going to sleep in a dark prison cell. But the protective walls and armed soldiers couldn't keep them safe from the Corporal's infernal shrieking, causing Haakon to close his eyes and tense up his head in pain, be it physical or mental. But the suggestion for some 'freshing up' in their quarters as a welcoming change, even if they'd have to inform the Lord Major of their endevours for that day. But not before another of his King's men talked to them again.

Haakon's increasingly tired eyes looked over at the legal officer, his eyes falling on the pack of cigarettes he offered them. Now Haakon didn't smoke, not anymore. It was a luxury he seldom could afford those days. But a free one? Haakon extended his hand and accepted a cigarette before answering the very kind man. "Anything besides the whole 'Don't leave town' part? Not much. Josephine?" Haakon thought that it was very little the British could do, seen as they hadn't actully been beaten or the like. His lack of words were also due to him coughing. He really didn't smoke cigarettes, but it was a comfort he needed now.

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Mahendra's heart was beating faster at the realization that he was getting ever closer to employment, but the Bengali did his best to compose himself as he pulled out his wallet. "My name is Mahendra Huq Zazil. British India, West Bengali to be presice, Sir. " Mahendra's accent was just as thick as one might except of the desk-man introducing himself as Akhmed, the R's mistakable for L's and the intonation different from the normal English his clothes hinted an origin to.

"I studied geology and recieved a degree and qualifications as a geologist at the Universty of Oxford; it says that here." Mahendra had pulled out a small number of folded papers and handed them to Akhmed, who would read his certificats as a qualified geologist and such. I've taken part in a few archeological digs; In Britain I assisted in the survey of old Norman fortifications in Eastern England, and in India I helped to discover a small temple from the 13th century, nothing much. But I have also worked at a motor roads, surveying the geological composition and...that's mostly that, actually. But I do have the adress to my professor in Oxford, although I don't know if he is available now."

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Josephine fought every urge to strangle the Corporal with his own vocal cords. Thankfully, they arrived and the man was off, leaving them to fend for themselves yet again. They were back in what could relatively be considered home for the duration. One of the guards approached and offered them a cigarette, which Josephine happily obliged in.

It felt good to puff it in and let it out slowly.

"It was just dreadful. That man wanted something more than just an interrogation, of that I'm sure. We seem to be out of it though, for now. I wouldn't be surprised if they try to pin the crime on us anyway. The nerve. Well, it's over with. I believe the loud Corporal mentioned freshening up and I could definitely use a powder. I'm afraid I still don't know my way around here. If you could lead me back to my room, that would be marvelous, darling." She took in another puff. Hearing Haakon cough was kind of cute. She hadn't expected the reporter to smoke at all. Their adventure called for relaxation though.

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Another look of shock and horror overtook the venerable Lord Major, one that could only have come from a mangled, roughshod order of that age-old Elixir of the Gods, the right and proper balm for every rancid, odiously negative thing which may afflict a citizen of the British Empire. Reginald couldn't believe his ears. Certainly, the young, disfigured man was not talking about The Tea... Oh but he was. The discussion was, in its own way, just as unsettling as George's initial appearance in Reginald's eyes. His face grew surprised at first, then a rumbling, burbling anger began to well up in his brain if but for a second. The thought of Tea being intentionally served cold and sugared. It was just undignified. It was un-British. It was un...

Then he noticed a hint of smile from his guest. "Oh, you are a villain, Mr. Benaszewski!" exclaimed the Lord Major, beginning to chortle. "You, sir... Oh yes, indeed." He picked up and rang a bell on the edge of his desk. A steward opened the door, silently waiting for his orders. "Tea service, my good sir! It is a bit early, but tea service nonetheless! Earl Grey, if you would please, and make sure we have plenty of lemon for Mr. Benaszewski. Thank you so much. But quickly now! We have a guest."

"Very good, Lord Major." he responded. "You have an NCO waiting to report concerning the Cairo Prison assignment."

"Yes, yes; excellent. Please show him in." Reginald looked to Peter and George, "My apologies, this report should wrap up an incident from last night, from the Crown's perspective. Just a moment's indulgence, if you would."

The doorway was soon filled by the vigorous presence of the Corporal, finally back from escorting the starlet and reporter to and from the Prison. The Lord Major was anxious to hear the final words on the matter, file them away, and move past this incident with a touch of leverage to ensure that their agreement as gentleman and ladies all was maintained. The Corporal set a foot inside of the office, snapped raptly to attention, and glanced (for a mere fraction of a second) at Peter and George.

George.

Denial smacked him at first. He attempted valiantly to relay his report, even so far as to croak out the first couple of syllables of "Yes, Lord MA..." before his voice crackled into a draining shriek and the suddenly stark-pale Corporal darted from the room, his banshee-esque klaxon sounding out into the lobby and beyond.

Nonplussed, Reginald looked to his nephew and George, casually stating, "See? A moment's indulgence. Now, were were we?"

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Well her time in the museum so far certainly had proven quite educational, entertaining an rather eye opening on the subject of art and crafts from ancient Egypt. That said aside the weapons she sketched down earlier she hadn't really delved into too detailed observations and study while she walked around the museum. The current grand interest the new exhibit she had taken to sketching there too, but there was just so much more to see there that she wouldn't be able to finish it in on day. So she walked around, stopped like a normal tourist here and there as she took in the sights an made a mental map of the things and where she'd go at a later date in the upcoming days to slowly and in more details through everything this museum had to offer. That said, she did find her own mind wandering back towards those sketches she did so eventually she found herself a nice spot to rest while writing down in her small sketchbook.

She was currently thinking of that one cat that she had bough lunch for at that alley at the food place. Yeah that was a nice experience. She was sketching down the little furball when something else rushed through her mind, the way that cat reacted to that Nora woman.” Hmmm...” She made a sound of immense curiousity as she stopped drawing and recalled the face of the woman. Also the face of the one with her Neema. And then curiously enough the nephew of Neema was a smith, on top of all somehow she ended up with possible visit for study and exchange smithing techniques. So many coincidences today that she barely believed it was coincidental. She was someone who believed in grander things. Things that were beyond the scopes of their everyday lives. The occult to her was rather real prospect.' I wonder if I can find a fortune teller somewhere...' That seemed like a rather interesting prospect to her right now.

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Harry took the key from Aziza gently, starting into the building and towards the stairs when he stopped, noticing the two soldiers approaching them. Harry gave them both curt nods, seeing they were in British uniforms, letting Aziza do the talking as he watched them move off and out of the building. Turning his gaze toward Aziza, he nodded, scratching at his chin for a moment. "He certainly seems to appreciate you." Harry agreed with a nod. He had taken the Lord Major as one of the better sort of officers he'd encountered in his military time, and this further soldified that, the Lord Major was willing to go to efforts to ensure people were safe outside of his direct jurisdiction and orders. The fact that it was Aziza just made Harry doubly pleased.

Moving up the stairs slowly with Aziza, he paused as they reached the door. Glancing back over his shoulder towards her, he gave her a nod and held a finger to his lips, reaching over his shoulder as he unslung the rifle resting there, shifting the stock into his elbow as he let his hands shift over the weapon in the usual grip he'd taken, assuming the usual stance he had for such an action as if he had never put the weapon down. It was something that was hard to forget. Harry took a few cautious steps towards the door, weapon held at the ready as he gently nudged it further open with the barrel, keeping his finger just off the trigger to avoid any accidental discharge as he moved inside, keeping it ready. His eyes drifted over the ransacked interior, mattresses and cushions torn up, trunks tossed with clothing spread everywhere, furniture flipped and tossed about. In simple words, the room was a mess, but at least there didn't seem to be anyone there but them at that moment. "God's Blood..." Harry exclaimed as he looked around, slinging the rifle again as he looked back to Aziza. "I'm sorry."

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William sighed as he made his way back up the stairs from the archives, only pausing when the delivery man made his way over towards him. Giving the man a quick nod of thanks, William grabbed the promised pay, slipping iti nto his hands and watching as the delivery man shifted back off outside the museum again. Wandering down the hall back towards Vera's office, he ran in his mind what he should say when he got there, no doubt expecting some kind of expletive, or at the very least a sharp glare at his entrance. He would be firm but polite, and explain exactly what he was doing, if that was to be an issue, then he'd deal with it, but William had plans and work of his own to do, and he'd not be robbed of it because Vera was simply too naive to understand her own affections.

He knocked twice before he opened the door, and everything he had prepared in his mind disappeared in a blue when he set his eyes on the flowers, having not quite expected that many. He fought down a flush of red to his cheeks, but couldn't help the slightest hint of it as embarrassment took him for a moment, he turned his gaze towards Vera, clearing his throat. "Apologies." Was all he could muster, not finding any better words as he gave a brief nod to the other ladies in the room, making his way as quickly as he could, while making as little distraction as he could, past them and towards the library.