"Are you all right my friend? You look lost."
Bakura jerked his head up from the counter where he'd been staring at a cartouche pendant under the glass. Ahmed was looking at him with concern.
"Sorry," Bakura mumbled sheepishly. "I'm a bit under the weather today." He turned around and busied himself reshelving some trinkets behind the counter.
Ahmed clucked sympathetically. "I think I know what is wrong with you. You are in love, aren't you?"
Bakura turned sharply. "What makes you say that?"
"It is obvious. Only being in love can give a man that look." Ahmed smiled. "So who is she? Someone beautiful, yes?"
"She…" Bakura repeated dazedly, then shook his head. "Someone beautiful, yes," he said ruefully, "but confusing."
"Aren't all women?" Ahmed chuckled.
"Ahmed, I don't mean to be rude, but I'd rather not talk about this. It's rather personal."
"Of course, Bakura, I understand. Don't worry. It will all work out in the end, you'll see."
"I hope you're right."
"Listen, why don't you go take a coffee break now. Find your friend Marik and maybe talk it over with him. I think maybe he could cheer you up."
"Doubtful," Bakura replied, forcing himself not to roll his eyes at the irony. He did want desperately to talk to Marik and ask him what had happened last night, but certainly not here at the museum. Then again, coffee sounded like a fabulous idea. "But I'll take you up on the break offer," he added. He came out from behind the counter and walked of the little gift shop intending to go to the snack bar nearby. Before he was ten steps away from the gift shop, however, a man who seemed vaguely familiar stopped him and said something to him in Arabic. Bakura answered in the one Arabic phrase he knew perfectly from memory: "I'm sorry, I don't speak Arabic."
"Ah, English then?" the man asked with a heavy accent. "I should've known," he added when Bakura nodded. "I said that we've met before, at that club at the Winter Palace, remember? You're Marik Ishtar's friend, right?"
Bakura frowned, trying to remember this man and uncomfortable with the way he emphasized the word friend. "I'm a friend of the Ishtars, yes," he said carefully.
The man gave him a slippery smile and stuck his hand out. "Of course. I am Wajdi Muizz. I am also a friend of Marik Ishtar. And your name?"
"Bakura," he answered, shaking Wajdi's hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Bakura. You work here at the museum, yes? Is that how you and Marik met?"
"I work at the museum, but I met the Ishtars at a card game tournament in Japan two years ago."
"Japan? What brings you to Egypt, then?"
"My father was an archaeologist and his stories made me curious. Ishizu was kind enough to offer me a job. Now if you'll excuse me, I really—"
Wajdi took a step closer. "Listen, Bakura, you seem like an interesting young man. Perhaps I can buy you a drink at the Winter Palace later and you can tell me about this card tournament in Japan? I am very curious about card games."
"I don't think so," Bakura said, taking a step back, feeling more and more ill at ease. "I—"
"Wajdi!" he heard a voice call out sharply, and Bakura looked up to see Marik coming toward them, looking furious. He barely glanced at Bakura, just barked something in Arabic at Wajdi.
It was then that Bakura remembered where he'd seen Wajdi before. He was the man with whom Marik had exchanged terse words one of the first nights Bakura had been in Luxor. He was the reason they'd switched from clubs and bars to coffee houses and cafés. Clearly they had some sort of past history, but Marik certainly didn't seem like he considered him a friend. On the contrary, he looked thoroughly annoyed as they talked in Arabic and Marik was gesturing in a way that Bakura interpreted as "get out."
Wajdi glanced Bakura's way. He said something else in a sort of slippery tone and then Bakura heard a gasp behind him. He turned to see Ahmed in the doorway of the gift shop. Marik saw him too.
And then Marik lost it.
With a look of fury in his eyes that made Bakura feel like the Egyptian's darker half had suddenly returned, Marik grabbed Wajdi by the shirt and pushed him against the wall.
"Marik!" Bakura cried, and Marik turned to him and started speaking in Japanese. It threw him for a moment; in the entire two months he'd been in Egypt, he and Marik had never spoken to each other in Japanese, only English. He only used his Japanese when leading a tour of visitors from Japan, and now hearing it out of context, it took Marik repeating himself for Bakura to understand that he was telling him to go back into the gift shop, that he would explain later. He then spat something in Arabic to Wajdi that was clearly a threat of some sort, but Wajdi only laughed. Marik pushed him against the wall again then turned and said something to Ahmed that made the older man scurry back into the gift shop.
The commotion was starting to draw attention. Out of nowhere, Odion appeared. He and Marik exchanged words and then Odion glowered and grabbed Wajdi by the arm. Wajdi cowered a moment—Odion could be terrifying when he wanted to be—but then he looked at Marik and began what Bakura could only assume by the tone of voice was a string of curses. Odion looked as furious as Marik, and together they hauled Wajdi away from the gift shop.
"Please, Bakura, come away, you don't need to see this," a voice said at his shoulder and Bakura turned to see Ahmed standing beside him.
"Ahmed, what was that all about?" he asked.
"Do not concern yourself," Ahmed answered dismissively. "That man was being very insulting… to the Ishtar family. Marik and Odion will take care of it."
"What did he say?"
Ahmed shook his head. "I won't repeat it. Do not concern yourself with the lies of a sick man. Go take your coffee break."
"Ahmed—"
"Just go," Ahmed said, and then gave him an odd smile. "And don't worry, I think you will find much reason for cheer very soon."
And with that rather cryptic statement and a knowing wink, Ahmed went back into the gift shop, leaving Bakura for the second time in as many days wondering what the hell had just happened.
If Ahmed fancied himself a prophet, he was an extraordinarily poor one, Bakura mused. A week after the incident with Wajdi, not only had Bakura not found "much reason for cheer," he was more depressed than ever. The explanation Marik had promised when he was arguing with Wajdi never came, and neither did one for his abrupt departure from Bakura's apartment the night before. In fact, he was clearly avoiding Bakura. He'd come by the gift shop with coffee and shisha like always, but only when Ahmed was around, never when Bakura was alone. He avoided looking Bakura in the eye and always left work either earlier or later than him, no longer offering a ride home or an invitation to dinner, although Odion came by several times when he was leaving and offered to drive him home. Even on the mornings when he and Marik were supposed to cook breakfast at the shelter, Marik never showed, leaving Bakura struggling in a room full of volunteers and children who spoke only Arabic.
After a week of this, depression started turning to anger. He vowed to corner Marik that night before leaving the museum and force him to explain what was going on. As he was getting ready to leave, however, Odion and Rashida appeared, dragging him and Ahmed into some small talk. He was about to make excuses to go find Marik when Odion said with an odd formality, "Mr. Bakura, on behalf of my sister, My family would be most honored to join you for dinner tonight at the El Kababgy."
"Excuse me?" he asked, confused. The way Odion had phrased it sounded as if he were accepting an invitation that had been issued by Bakura. Not only had he issued no such invitation, he really had no interest in a dinner engagement with Marik that included his entire family. What he wanted was five minutes alone and an explanation.
"My wife, sister, brother, and I would be honored to join you for dinner at the El Kababgy," Odion repeated. "The restaurant near the Winter Palace?"
"Yes, I'm familiar with the restaurant, but—"
Odion cut him off by taking his arm and leaning in close. "Ishizu likes lilies," he said conspiratorially.
Bakura stared at him. Ishizu likes lilies? Why on earth would Odion be telling him that? He saw Ahmed smile and turn his back, pretending to be busy with some new trinkets that had come in. As soon as Ahmed moved away, Odion leaned in even further and began whispering under his breath in Japanese: "Please don't ask any questions. Come to dinner, dress formally, bring lilies for Ishizu, and all will be explained afterwards."
Bakura pulled away from him, angry. "I was promised an explanation a week ago, but none has been forthcoming," he hissed back in Japanese.
"Things are not as they seem, Ryou," Odion whispered in Japanese. Before Bakura even had time to register the use of his given name, which so far only Marik ever used, Odion stood up straight and said brightly in English, "We look forward to dinner tonight. Seven o'clock?"
Bakura glared at him. "Yes, fine, seven o'clock," he replied. Odion gave him a very Japanese bow of the head and Rashida smiled warmly at him, and the two of them left.
"I told you," Ahmed said with a broad smile when Odion and Rashida were gone. "Things are looking up for you, my British friend."
Bakura shook his head. "If you say so, Ahmed."