[center][h1][color=686F91]Harry Walsh[/color][/h1]
[img]http://66.media.tumblr.com/d03fc8a9229db3193e86bfc3b3c8b536/tumblr_nkhkysMc5r1uokpato5_540.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][b][color=686F91]Location:[/color][/b] Qasr El Nil Barracks: Stables -> Aziza's Quarters[/center][hr]

Harry sat in silence for a few moments as Aziza spoke in response to him, there was a practised care in her words, he figured it was likely that she had comforted more than one tired soldier who had come to her when she worked at the bar, looking for a lap to lay their head in and a sweet voice to calm their thoughts. Though in truth, he had no real clue just how practised she may have been in things like this. Regardless, she spoke with a careful devotion that at least to him, spoke volumes of her skill with them.

Feeling her hands take his own, he looked down to them as he heard her words, they were calloused, rough, especially around the palms. They had been bloodied, bruised, grazed and splintered many times over his years at war, but as he felt her hand against him, and especially as he felt her lips brush against the skin briefly, they felt soft, warm. [b][color=686F91]"I couldn't even begin to tell you it all, we would be here for days, and even I wouldn't make such assumptions about my story-telling to say I could keep you interested that long."[/color][/b] He gave a gentle, awkward smile. [b][color=686F91]"But just being out and away from the sounds and stress are comfortable enough to me."[/color][/b]

Harry knew he wanted to speak to Aziza, to tell her each and every story, but it was impossible for him to force the words out, they were caught in his throat, refusing to come forth, for now they would stay there, locked up by the misery which kept him trapped by his own fears.

[hr][hr] 

[center][h1][color=FFE2AA]William Drake[/color][/h1]
[img]http://49.media.tumblr.com/ff46ab5f5f3b663db052ad5d797359c6/tumblr_o23ey3NKbE1qdhps7o3_500.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b][color=FFE2AA]Location:[/color][/b] The Egyptian Museum[/center][hr]

Gently, William kept his hands softly on Vera's shoulders as she clung to him, forcing a gentle smile down to her in a reassuring manner. A part of his mind cursed him, he had been frustrated with Vera, almost furious after their last argument, but as she had rushed back into his arms it had all been flushed from his mind and his focus was back upon her. Only that small part of his mind now insisted he shouldn't fall into the trap, but no, his focus was entirely on her.

Catching a glance of Peter as he came around the corner, William's gaze flicked up to him, and he had to fight down the flash of fury in his eyes, and then even harder to hide the smugness which followed. He did not know Peter had come, but the fact that whatever had terrified Vera had sent her back into his arms instead of Peters spoke volumes about the reality of the situation, and keeping a smirk off his smug face was nigh impossible as he rolled his eyes at Peter's comment. [b][color=FFE2AA]"Of course, if he's an American, he can't be any worse than me, right Vera?"[/color][/b] He smiled as he looked down at her, keeping his hands on her shoulders gently but not fighting her if she did try to leave his grasp, flashing only the most momentary of triumphant glances in Peter's direction.