"Good morning, Larry," is the last thing Ahkmenrah says - with a smile, like he always does - before they share a kiss and Larry closes the lid of the sarcophagus.
A few things have changed in the Museum, sometimes discreetly and sometimes with Dr. McPhee giving in to the night guard's somewhat quixotic requests with a bemused air. ("Admittedly, this is rather irregular...but, you know, just because..." "I'm the best night guard this museum has ever had?" A deep sigh.)
So now, Sacagawea and Lewis and Clark have a door in their exhibit. And Ahkmenrah's sarcophagus doesn't get locked or put under a giant stone slab anymore. Unfortunately, Dr. McPhee drew a line at putting Dexter in a cage. ("For heaven's sake, it's just a stuffed monkey!")
With a heavy stone grind, the jackal guards settle into position at the gate of the Egypt gallery. Larry salutes them as he walks past and tries not to feel creeped out when they genuflect in return. They don't really owe allegiance to him, hell no, but he's definitely some kind of...consort? companion?...to the guy they work for, and apparently certain deferential gestures came with that particular package.
"Hey, Jed, Octavius," Larry greets the miniature car rolling up at his feet. "Ready to turn in for the day?"
"So...you and the Pharaoh, gettin' real sweet on each other, ain't ya?"
"Tell me that's not a leer on your face." Larry folds his arms and sighs.
"I don't know what you're talkin' about, I'm just sayin'--" "Jed here has merely been observing the escalation of your relationship with the Pharaoh. Aaaaand...we might or might not have witnessed your your most kiss with him."
"Okay. You know what? It's not like the two of you can talk," Larry says, resisting the urge to blush, stammer, or anything else stupid like that. "Just, try not to get all hot and bothered in the Coliseum again like you did last time or you'll probably scar McPhee for life."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean..." Two indignant voices trail him as he steps over the car keeps going down the hall.
"All snug as bugs in very familiar rugs, Larry?" Teddy Roosevelt falls into step, leading Tex by the reins. Larry figures he's probably returning from saying some good mornings of his own in the Frontier gallery.
"Yep, all ready for another sunrise." They get to the lobby, where the windows cast huge rectangles of grey, pre-dawn light on the floor.
"Larry." Roosevelt stops him with a hand on his shoulder, and it's honestly kind of spooky how often he knows what's going on in Larry's head without Larry saying anything. "We've all of us here witnessed many sunrises in our lifetimes-worth of memories. And we'll be here with our memories for a long time." His eyes are kind. "You're not alone in the morning."
Larry is quiet for a beat. He can't tell if he feels comforted or not. He can't cuddle with his partner on a roof somewhere as they watch together the first golden flush of dawn, and he can't go downstairs afterwards and kiss over the coffee and bagels each new morning. He'll never get to witness a sunrise - or sunset - with Ahkmenrah.
But he exhales and nods anyway. "Okay. Thanks. Good morning, Teddy."