[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] Second Deck (Staircase) -> Main Deck 
[Color=007236]Skills:[/color] Understanding of local Eygptian superstition[/center][hr]
 
The conversation Mahendra had entered continued to revolve around the status of the Empire and cricket, both of which Mahendra could relate to. He had played several games of the "Jolly good sport of the English gentleman" in his academic years in England, but never quite gotten the hang of it. The talk about the Empire was perhaps of more interest, with the talk of independence movements in several of the Crown's jewels so to speak, including the Indian subcontinent. What did Mahendra think about that, and independent India? Not probable, seen as the various peoples of India were as different as those in Europe, so an united India was unlikely. However...

That's when he caught sight of her. The woman. Dark hair and pale skin, and eyes locked onto him. But those eyes...by the gods, for a moment Mahendra swore he saw them flicker in the shade of red! Mahendra felt both uncomfortable with her sly smile aimed at him, as if inviting him to follow her, yet felt a compelling interest in what this creature was. For with all the divine happenings of the last days, he didn't put it past her to be something more than mortal. But as his mind raced to think of just who and/or what she could be, he either thought she could be everything and nothing at the same time; there were too many options to narrow down. That didn't make him feel any more comfortable though. 

Giving him one last look before she descended the stairs down to the Main Deck, Mahendra unknowingly took a step after her, before stopping himself. Why follow her? But why not? His own dark brown eyes looked at the stairs leading up, knowing that Lauren and the others were up there somewhere. But at the same time, his gut told him to follow her. Not because it could mean anything good, but sometimes fate made you do things that made sense in the greater scheme of things. The Gods moved in mysterious ways, as they said. He took two steps back, twirling his fine Bengali moustache as he cotemplated waiting for the others to say who, or what he saw, but...no. In the end Mahendra excused himself from the cricket-conversation, and followed after the red-eyed lady downstairs. 

[hr][center][h1][color=#255DB3]Richard Barker[/color][/h1]
[img]http://images.complex.com/complex/image/upload/t_article_image/pxv8ashdo6bwszyzi55g.gif[/img][/center]

[hr][center][Color=#255DB3]Location:[/color] Main Deck (Open Air Lounge)
[Color=#255DB3]Skills:[/color] None[/center][hr] 

Time to dust off his old private detective routine from his golden (more likely faded bronze, but hey it was an expression so just roll with it) days in New York. Richard didn't look directly at the Journal-man, instead looking around a casually and acting as normal as an American on an Egyptian steamboat going up the Nile could be when he wasn't avoiding people going past him. The unlit cigarette rolling between his sweaty fingers, Richard got the occasion look at his man. For a man that looked like he'd spent too much time under the sun, he sure didn't look like a native. Very few Arabs Richard knew had light eyes like that, which meant he probably wasn't local. But what had he done out in the scorching sun for so long, with that leathery tan and stub, and what about the journal? 

The private dick made slow and steady progress towards his target, watching him put the journal away and apparently deep in thought. The bulging veins in his hands he saw too, but what that meant was beyond him. He was better at spotting people lying to his face, not so much at distance. Richard walked up to the man, cutting the introductions as he held his unlit cigarette up in front of him and asked him [Color=#255DB3]"Quite the tan you got there, pal. Been out too long in the sun?"[/color] Richard stood beside the man in the corner, taking off his fedora and using it as a fan to cool himself down. [Color=#255DB3]"The heat, you never get used to it do you?"[/color] He continued, trying to make small-talk while idly fiddling with the still unlit piece of cheap tobacco between his fingers. [Color=#255DB3]"Name's Richard, by the way. Nice to meet you. Sorry for bothering you, but I couldn't help but notice that journal of yours. Just wanted to say it looks mighty fine."[/color] The conversation continued, as Richard put the cigarette in his mouth and lit it. [Color=#255DB3]"Looks just like my girl's. May I ask where you got it from?"[/color] The detective asked, breathing in the nicotine and out again in one long puff while looking casually at the man. His gut told him it wasn't his, but in the event that the perp wouldn't talk, he was ready to put up the pressure.