[center][h1][Color=DF0101]Haakon J. Elvsgaard[/color][/h1]
[img]http://www.jerryjazzmusician.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/bix1.jpg[/img][/center]

[hr][center][Color=DF0101]Location:[/color]Grand Continetal Hotel [/center][hr]

[Color=DF0101]"Safety in numbers, indeed. I don't see a reason to postpone our departure any further then. My room's on the second floor, it won't take long for me to gather my essentials."[/color] Haakon said back to Josephine, though the remark about his belongings more so directed towards the Lord-Major; Haakon saw him as the unofficial group's leader for their short travel from the hotel and back to the barrack. For now at least. Like Josephine, Haakon didn't have an immense desire to stay at the barracks, but the concern for safety far out-weighted the comforts of his air-conditioned room. 

His quick departure to his room was cut short, however, as the Lord-Major proceeded to the window and began shouting at something; or someone, as the voice shouting back logically indicated. [i]General Papers of Non-Disclosure[/i]? It took Haakon a moment to realize what the senior Keystone meant by that; a paper, which with one's signature, prohibited the respective signer from talking or publish anything about other's that might cause them severe danger to their lives. Haakon had signed such a paper once or twice, though his reporting - in his mind at least - had never gotten close enough to put those he wrote about in mortal peril. The closest case he could think of was his reporting in Munich of the attempted coup, though the danger of their lives were more than already put at stake before his publishment. 

But it was then that it dawned on him, especially once Aziza seemed to have a break-down and stating that she couldn't join them, and when Peter Keystone eye-balled him after attempting to calm Aziza down from her fear of the day's events being known to her husband; his suspicions only grew stronger once Peter directly addressed Hakon about 'having a little talk'. It was clear to Haakon what the problem was. 

[u]Him[/u]. 

[Color=DF0101]"...of course, Mr. Keystone, of course. Like I said, my quarters is on the second floor, if you prefer to have said conversation under four eyes?"[/color] Haakon pulled off his fedora and ruffled his hair, the now sweaty grease smudged on his palm and between his fingers. His voice was no longer as certain as it had just been. 

It would seem that he had, unwillingly, dragged himself down into yet another muddy hole. It was clear to him that his 'companions' didn't trust him. While he had indeed been intending to write about this evening's events - he was a journalist after all, it payed for his daily bread -, it hadn't occured to him that his writing would put their lives in mortal peril; not more than they already were in at least, as he now thought that something like this certainly wasn't extending their life-expectancies. Aziza's reaction confirmed that mortal peril was indeed the case. The fact that it involved her supposed husband, whom Haakon had no recollection of her ever mentioning during their short time knowing of one another, hinted even further at the severity of a possible publishment. 

The point was that his presence in the company was a point sore enough to make the Lord-Major have the entire group swear they wouldn't speak or write about these events in a way that put their lives at risk. What qualified as 'dangerous information', Haakon wasn't sure of; was it the mere acknowledgement of Aziza existence enough for her husband to murder her, or did it have something to do with Abbas and their little encounter not 15 minutes ago?

What he did know was that he had to be careful what he wrote down from now on; and that he had to find something else to publish while he was in Egypt, or else face his resigntion.