Jonathan Carnahan was doing what would have been called back in England "a pub crawl". In Cairo it amounted more to him getting kicked out of over six different bars in the same night. Most of which because he already owed too much there already. He tipsily made his way down a small backstreet singing Danny Boy with all his might, and to his surprise he heard a voice inside what seemed to be a sort of ten table restauarant, small, quaint, and hidden away. He walked in, and saw the face that belonged to the voice, it was a blonde cleaning down the counter at what looked to be a bar. It certainly had all the signs of being a bar, a nice collection of glasses on display, and bottles behind the singing lady.
"Good evenin'" she said in a strong and rich american accent, much fuller than Rick's. This was what Jonathan had grown up expecting Americans to talk like, slow and long, and a bit lazily. "What can I do for you this evening?" she asked putting away a glass she'd just finished drying.
"Scotch, if you please miss" Jonathan said plopping himself down on a barstool.
"You're English" she remarked, taking a shot glass from under the bar and filling it. "You don't just look it, you sound it" she said as she passed it to him. "So you're in a bar in Cairo and you're English... which means you're not a missionary, well not the usual kind at least." She said pertly. Smiling at the man, not in admiration as much as amusement.
"No" he began slurring a bit "I am an adventurer!" he declared.
"Oh really?" she asked, leaning over the bar with feigned interest and an air entirely composed of sarcasm.
"Yes! a wealthy adventurer!" he added even more dramatically.
"Wealthy you say?" she asked concealing her sarcastic smirk that he was too drunk to take note of.
"Yes, let me tell you the story of how I came by my gold!" he said, gesturing towards the room and then swiveling back around, bringing his face within a couple inches of her nose. He reeked of whiskey and various other intoxicants. The woman at the bar moved back a bit.
"Do tell" she said. At the very least it would provide some amusement while she cleaned up and in an hour she'd be closing and could kick him out, though he seemed a nice enough guy, she'd do him the favor of calling someone to pick him up.
And so Jonathan began upon the story of the Mummy. Enlarging his part enormously, reducing Rick to his trusty sidekick, and leaving out Evelyn for all except some of the translation bits, and then repeatedly saying she was his sister, he had high hopes of flirting his way into a couple of free drinks, perhaps more, though this American bar mistress didn't look too promising for all that much. She was very pretty, but she looked as if she were made of the exact kind of mettle, the firm decisive and principled kind to be exact. Not his kind at all. And so he was coming to a major climactic point, he had had to include his sister in this part, and so here he was, charging forth, armed to the teeth to rescue his poor sister from a faint worse than death, when in came Rick and Evelyn, running into the bar, they barely heeded that it was Jonathan sitting there, because four large, extremely tall undead bird-headed mummies were pursuing them.