Djedkare stifled a groan as this 16-year-old angel boasted of how he apparently commanded the armies of the nation he let get destroyed. Djedkare merely leaned forward and toussled Jack's hair.

"Sure ya are, boy. Sure ya are. If ya need me t' dry yer tears an' tell you it's okay t' cry about yer parents, my room number is 212. That's floor 2, just down the hall from the soda machine. Try not t' talk about yer 'exploits' as an angel, boy, this place is fulla parasites an' maneaters. Th' reck'nin' is comin', boy, and you'd best know whose side yer on."

At that, Djedkare stepped away from the bar, and headed into the crowd, looking for a better conversation. The crowd was thick with thralls, still enthusiastically carrying out their mistress's last orders. Some were settled in the pool, others shakily danced and drank from empty glasses, and still others were making a concentrated effort to simulate flirting with one another. Already, the crowd at the pool was showing signs of wear and tear; their fingers were wrinkled as raisins, and their eyes were bloodshot from chlorine exposure. 

Djedkare spotted a strange figure in the crowd, one who held his mental faculties in high esteem. This one was wearing a gaudy pimp coat with traditional Japanese garb underneath. The contrast between purple felt and white silk made for a sight that would be impossible to miss. Djedkari smiled from ear to ear, and embraced Kakutoku Sha warmly.
"It is good to see even a Theban in these trying times! Tell me, kind priest, how goes your relations with the savages of the Mediterranean?"

[@Professor_Wyvern]