[hr][center][h1][b][i]Scooby Gang[/i][/b][/h1][hr][b][i][color=82ca9d]Location: [/color][/i][/b]Grand Continental[/center][hr]	

	Typewriter? He needed his typewriter? To sleep? These thoughts went through Aziza's mind, not Peters. She looked at the man oddly and then recalled the meeting in the Museum. He was a journalist. Aziza suddenly felt her stomach drop. Looking over between Josephine and Haakon a look of dread came over her features. She had opened up to a woman who seemed to be rather close to this journalist. She had been attacked that evening some at least someone associated with her former husband. She was being hunted and now this entire thing with the jewelry and the inscriptions. 

	Being around a journalist that wanted to write a story about all of this... She felt her fear rising and she suddenly shook her head. [color=a187be]"I... I can't go.... We must part ways here,"[/color] she said quickly as she grabbed her wrap and laced it around herself in a hurried fashion. Any mention of her or anything she had gone through would easily get back to her ex-husband. Putting her life in even more danger and perhaps even her sons. She wouldn't have it. 

	Turning she nearly bolted through the door but was stopped by Peter, who thanks to his injury couldn't get out of the way fast enough. [color=a187be]"Excuse me,"[/color] she stuttered, fighting back tears. She was terrified at this moment. 

	[color=82ca9d]"Ma'am.... What is it? I can promise, my uncle will keep us all safe."[/color] Peter was trying to be reassuring as he looked over towards Sgt. Walsh confused to her sudden change. She had been alright with going until a moment ago. 

	Aziza didn't want to explain, afraid to say anything more in the presence of the journalist or his friend. Allah what had she done? She had kept closed off for a reason. Now she had opened up and put everything she was working towards in danger. [color=a187be]"If any of this gets back to my husband in some story I am a dead woman."[/color] Her voice was curt, cold, and terrified. 

	[color=82ca9d]"The lord major mentioned a non-disclosure agreement. That means anything that happens cannot be spoken about or written about ever under penalty of espionage against the crown."[/color] Peter was trying to reassure her that it would be okay. Peter liked the idea of people signing one, it would keep anything from making any publication. It didn't matter ones nationality. If you signed it, it was legally binding. They would be on Englands ground within the barracks, and the English empire stretched far and wide even now. The Crown had silenced more than one person six feet under who were found guilt of such charges. 

[hider=Freedom Of The Press]
During this time there is so called "Free Press" but in the UK, it is limited and cannot be published if it places anyone's life in danger. In Norway during this time they had a bit more latitude. They were the first, along with Denmark to have Freedom of the Press but it was only short lived. Being restricted once again due to backlash in 1771. The Ethical Code of Practice for the Norwegian Press didn't come about until 1936 and The Norwegian Press Association had only started in 1910. 

To keep things simple we are going to go with a general rule for European Countries and their citizens that there can be no publications which can place anyone written about in danger for their lives. I know this is a bit of a generalization but it will keep things moving much smoother instead of constant research on the matter.)
[/hider]
	Looking over towards Haakon for a moment before she pushed passed Peter and ran down the stairs. She wasn't staying there a moment longer. She knew Peter was trying to help and put her at ease but right then she was full of dread. She had been attacked, her husband had tried to kill her once before. She'd rather run than risk anything else. 

	Peter righted himself from the door frame and let out a long breath. [color=82ca9d]"Someone who can actually run please go after her,"[/color] he said before stepping over to his uncle and then looking around the room. [color=82ca9d]"Right... So, that was fun. Mr. Elvsgaard... I believe we are going to have to have a little talk before we go any further."[/color]


[hr][center][h1][b][i]Elsewhere In The City[/i][/b][/h1][/center][hr]

	Vera came around slowly and sat up, holding her head. She groaned lightly as she room spun. Pressing her palm against her forehead she pushed her hair back and glanced around, spotting Lauren sitting there. [color=f7976a]"I drank too much didn't I?"[/color] she said with a voice that half said she was about to hurl in a very unladylike way (as if there was a ladylike way to vomit, well there might be if you hold your pinky up. I don't know."

	Sliding off the bed when she tried to stand up she just let her feet fall out in front of her. She was glad no one was around but Lauren. She thought she should be horribly embarrassed right then but her head hurt too much. She could be embarrassed when the pain was gone. Then she noticed she was in a room and had no recollection of how she got in there. Looking back over at Lauren she sighed slightly as she choked back a belch. [color=f7976a]"Did you have to bring me... where the hell are we?"[/color]

	The doctor showed himself out, the door closing behind him. He had seemed rather pleased with himself for helping such a helpless woman. He left his calling card before he left and told her to call him if she ever needed anything again. A creepy wink came from him when he stated he could help with female hysteria. There was a few moments of quiet for Lady Kingston before there was a knock at the door. On the other side of it stood an older woman. She had never been introduced to Nora before but she had been around the building. It was rather clear she was the mother of the doorman who worked in the kitchen. 

	"Lady Kingston? I brought you some warm milk and biscuits. Heard you were having trouble sleeping, nothing helps me sleep like warm milk."