[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]The Prison[/center][hr]

[Color=DF0101]"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."[/color] 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.