Adventfic #1: Casablanca
dark_puck: The Mummy: Jonathan and Imhotep, forced to rely upon one another
Jonathan winced as Imhotep towed him through the marketplace. The blasted mummy had kept a good grip on him since they reached the city. Less to keep him from running and more to ground Imhotep, if Jonathan was any judge of undead high priests of Amun-Ra. Not like anyone else was in two hundred miles, thanks so much, Evie, accepting a commission from the crown to fight in the war, of all the bloody things!
He needed a drink.
"We must leave this place," Imhotep said abruptly. In ancient Egyptian, because God forbid he learn English or even Arabic. "Leave this war."
"Right, well, the only bloody place left that's remotely civilized is America, and we can't get there without papers," Jonathan said scathingly, not bothering to re-arrange his sentence to meet ancient Egyptian grammatical standards.
Imhotep glowered at him. "Find someone with papers and take them. You're good at it."
Of all the things he'd remember, it was Jonathan lifting the key from his robes while being strangled.
Admittedly, that had been pretty good, if Jonathan did say so himself.
"It's not that easy," he protested, knowing the problem had already been firmly dumped on his shoulders in Imhotep's mind. "I can't just look at someone and magically know if they have the papers we need. Look, let's at least get a drink, listen to the gossip, get the lay of the land."
Imhotep inclined his head, which Jonathan knew was grudging agreement from experience.
"I've heard good things about Rick's Cafe Americain - no relation to Evie's husband."
Don't forget to leave your requests for tomorrow's fic in the comments for today's! Original post with fandoms and rules is here.
Jonathan winced as Imhotep towed him through the marketplace. The blasted mummy had kept a good grip on him since they reached the city. Less to keep him from running and more to ground Imhotep, if Jonathan was any judge of undead high priests of Amun-Ra. Not like anyone else was in two hundred miles, thanks so much, Evie, accepting a commission from the crown to fight in the war, of all the bloody things!
He needed a drink.
"We must leave this place," Imhotep said abruptly. In ancient Egyptian, because God forbid he learn English or even Arabic. "Leave this war."
"Right, well, the only bloody place left that's remotely civilized is America, and we can't get there without papers," Jonathan said scathingly, not bothering to re-arrange his sentence to meet ancient Egyptian grammatical standards.
Imhotep glowered at him. "Find someone with papers and take them. You're good at it."
Of all the things he'd remember, it was Jonathan lifting the key from his robes while being strangled.
Admittedly, that had been pretty good, if Jonathan did say so himself.
"It's not that easy," he protested, knowing the problem had already been firmly dumped on his shoulders in Imhotep's mind. "I can't just look at someone and magically know if they have the papers we need. Look, let's at least get a drink, listen to the gossip, get the lay of the land."
Imhotep inclined his head, which Jonathan knew was grudging agreement from experience.
"I've heard good things about Rick's Cafe Americain - no relation to Evie's husband."
Don't forget to leave your requests for tomorrow's fic in the comments for today's! Original post with fandoms and rules is here.