[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=sienna]Gilbert[/color] & [color=indianred]James[/color][/i][/b][/h1]
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[b][color=dimgray]Location:[/color][/b] Ville au Camp (Main Building, Dining Room) 
[b][color=dimgray]Skills:[/color][/b] [color=sienna]The Hat[/color] [hr][/center]

	[color=sienna]"Cairo, 1920's..."[/color] mumbled Gilbert. He didn't recall being part of the movement to reclaim the treasures of Egypt during that time period, at least not in any direct, situation-influencing way. He had been there when a lot of these miracles of the ancient age were created. Coming to think of it, he was responsible for destroying a few of them. Before they were the priceless bits of antiquity that they were today, at any rate. Nonetheless, digging up the bones of a past with which he was not directly involved was not a thing that held his particular interest at that time, especially while it was being sensationalized by a culture that mostly sought to profit from it. 

	James noted the sense of concentration on Gilbert's face, and peered at him with a touch of curiosity mixed with concern. [color=indianred]"You okay there, Mr. Hat? Need you a Pepto-Bismol or somethin'?"[/color] 

	Gilbert snapped out of his little foray into his history. [color=sienna]"No, I'm just fine. I was having a thought about the present situation in Cairo. Or, the situation twenty years ago."[/color] It tended to get confusing. This was expected. Gilbert stood from the table, wiping his hands with the cloth table napkin. He tossed it nonchalantly on the table and moved to recover his hat fro the back of his chair. Not the most gentlemanly spot to leave it, but perceived years of existence led for a sense of casual behavior. For someone like Gilbert, it concepts like "casual" carried more weight. He had been a little more formal than usual, owing to the presence of new Paradoxes. 

	An infectious smile parted his face and he looked down at James, who was still wrangling a fork around some sort of fruit dish or another. James responded by giving him a sideways glance and pushing his food back away from him. He knew that look. It meant someone was contemplating mischief. He held that look many a time before, and with like minded company. He just didn't know what it meant on the face of an immortal. [color=indianred]"You [i]sure[/i] you don't want that Pepto there, Mr. Hat, sir?"[/color] His voice was almost condescending. 

	Sensing his apprehension, Gilbert assured him, [color=sienna]"Just a magic trick, James. Nothing up my sleeve..."[/color] Of course, having his sleeves rolled up prevented a lot of that, but it was merely the antics of an impromptu performance. A more serious look crossed the face of the tall Emendator, and he began to reach into his mildly distressed fedora. Impossibly far - hand, wrist, up to his forearm into a space that was not really there. [color=sienna]"Here we are..."[/color] he finally said, removing his arm from the dimensional nonspace of his hat. [color=sienna]"Bartholomew!"[/color] he exclaimed, his head snapping in the young man's direction. From his seemingly magic hat, he pulled a fine [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/03/45/22/034522ea25a66906862ad0c201b15bc2--tweed-suits-peaky-blinders.jpg]suit[/url] of tweed and Egyptian cotton. He laid it across the back of Bart's chair, and remarked, [color=sienna]"You're welcome, boy. Here, you'll need this."[/color] He dropped a gold pocketwatch into a driving cap which matched the suit, and set it on the table near him. 

	[color=sienna]"You can't pass as anything else but American. Yet. Don't try. In fact, it might be better not to say much at all. Just tag along with Gio and make yourself useful to him."[/color] A similar feat of headwear-based mysticism brought out [url=https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwj07rGl6KXbAhUE7Z8KHTHkAQUQjRx6BAgBEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.pinterest.com%2Fpin%2F297167275397648143%2F&psig=AOvVaw20lzL0jXbxppi9pzq5eRJ6&ust=1527507780480884]another suit[/url] of richer appointment and cut for Giosue. He had seen this several times already; there was no point to theatrics with him. [color=sienna]"Clothes make the man, I suppose. I had thought to go with something more scholarly for you Gio. You should find a fair amount of local currency in a wallet in your suit pocket, and I have taken the liberty of providing you a map. Inside breast pocket."[/color]

	[color=indianred]"They gonna need to go packin'?"[/color] inquired James.

	[color=sienna]"That... is up to Gio. Your call."[/color]