[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]Qasr El Nil Barracks[/center][hr]

Haakon couldn't have agreed more to Josephine's words of freedom, finally giving a smile of relief. True, the Lord Major's trust in Haakon was running on a thin line right now, but for now he, and Jo, were on the ride side of it. He was about to question her for their next course of action, when he too caught the sight of a familiar face coming towards them. Aziza Tarek, the woman in question a mere moment earlier in Haakon's questioning, now there. Curious. 

Was there such a thing as fate? Haakon doubted it, normally, but now…

And just like that, Haakon missed the chance to say a word of sincerity to Aziza, simply getting in a polite nod to her before she had made her way to the Lord Major's door. It would seem that the honourable gentleman of the British Army were having a busy day. 

Haakon turned back to Josephine, at first not quite following what she said. The plan? But it didn't take long for him to pick up what she wanted, which was the same idea he himself had contemplated a few moments ago. [Color=DF0101]"The museum? I don't see any solid reason not to, frankly. Might be able to make our presence in current company less tense too. After you, Jo Dear."[/color] Haakon said to Josephine, holding out his hand towards the door and waiting for her to take the lead. [Color=DF0101]"Ladies and Resiliant movies stars first."[/color]

[hr]

[hr][center][h1][color=007236]Mahendra Huq Zalil[/color][/h1]
[img]http://st1.bollywoodlife.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/rkmog-top-5-mahatma-gandhi-portrayals-on-screen-png-92679.jpg[/img][/center]

[hr][center][Color=007236]Location:[/color]The Egyptian Museum[/center][hr] 

Again? Had Mahendra done it, again? The proud Bengali, defender of the Suez and scholar of London, had fainted? Twice? Mahendra's eyes started to reopen, once again beholding the impressive architecture of the office's ceiling from his prone position at the floor. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, down beside his eye and into his sweaty moustache. It tickled, and annoyed him. 

[Color=007236]"Miss…Miss Ridgeway? Could…could you be a dear and fetch me another glass of water? I seem to have…befallen a sort of dehydration, I think…"[/color]

He lied, well kind of. He was thirsty, that was so much as true. But why he had fainted? Twice? No he knew himself too well, and still saw the image of George burned onto his eyes, forever to haunt him unless he manned up and soldiered on. But for now he didn't include that into is explaination, and tried to avert his eyes from George as much as humanly possible as he tried to stand up. [Color=007236]"I'm okay, thank you. Probably wouldn't be strong enough either way. I'm born Bengali, you see."[/color] He tried to laugh it of.