Cairo, Egypt 1938

[henry_jones_jr]

[January 20th, 1938 @ 1:28 pm EET]Indy has been dumped into the same rude chair as always, in the same dingy room, with the same creaky floor boards, the same tiny windows and the same pall of cigarette smoke hanging in the air. His head hangs down limply as he massages his swollen wrists, freed from the abrasive rope fibers for a while. A little

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[comm_npc]

There are two brawny looking soldiers in attendance, and Bleidecker is back after a few days absence. He is perched on the edge of the table, adding langourously exhaled smoke to the shifting haze that has collected under the low roof. The end of his cigarette crackles faintly and brightens as he takes another drag.

[henry_jones_jr]

And the Crystal is there, sitting on the same table, coruscating in the weak daylight that slants through the excuses for windows. It is always there, twinkling and tempting.

Indy looks at neither the men nor the powerful object. His shirt—ragged and bloodstained, and just as defeated as its owner—hangs loosely off hunched shoulders.

[comm_npc]

"Nearly s'ree veeks now, Doctor."

Another slow pull on the smoke.

"I must confez zat I em quite imprezed. Ve all are, really."

[henry_jones_jr]

Indy learnt the price of contemptuous backtalk early on. Keeping his mouth shut, he lifts his head and offers a wan smile.