Owner	Pose
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	It's nearing midnight at the Midnight Mission, appropriate perhaps, certainly amusing. Though Layla Abdallah El-Faouly is not smiling. If anything, she looks a little stressed and frazzled and frustrated. She pushes at the doors to the Mission, looking almost surprised when they actually open this time, before her features set back into determined annoyance. She starts forward again, building up a good head of steam as she does so. Looking around, noting details, and looking for her erstwhile husband. "MARC! Don't think you can hide this time! We're havinng it out RIGHT. NOW. Now get out here!" She's holding a folded sheaf of papers in one hand, a very wrinkled and dirtied and frayed looking sheaf of papers. There's even a paper clip aat one corner. And something that might be ketchup or blood, its hard to say.
Marc Spector	Marc is in the main hall of the Mission, his hands resting on the altar before the large statue of Khonshu. He looks terrible. There is a weariness in his eyes and jetlag in his features. Khonshu's power isn't there anymore. Marc knows it and can -feel- the emptiness that lingers in the building without the gods' presence. "We have to figure out how to fix you..." he mutters. The doors open and he turns, speaking before he realizes who is coming in.     "Jon, what would happen if--" his words stop as his eyes take in the woman before him. It's been four years since he's seen her face. Her hair. Her everything. He'd almost forgotten it. But it all comes flooding back in full reality before him. "You... Layla? You're... why are you here?" he asks. It's not the best or most cordial of greeting, probably on account that he had all but removed the traces of her from his life. For her safety, or so he thought at the time.
Jonathan Sims	Jon doesn't come through the door. When does Jon come through doors anymore? Jon /makes/ a door, which appears in the wall next to the statue of Ma'at that stands in the mission. He's grinning a little foolishly, but the grin dies as he senses the tension in the room.     "Ahh..." A pause. A blink at Layla. He furrows his brow, peering at the papers. "Wait... Layla? Your ex-wife? Is this why you called me...?" Well, no, she's /just/ coming into the room, so..."     They let the door close behind them and step in a bit further, frowning between the two of them. "Well. This is terribly awkward."
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	"You have to -sign- the papers if you want a divorce, Marc. You don't just file and then run off and never answer your phone." Layla walks right up to him, slapping the papers against his chest. He's either going to catch them or they're going to fall because she releases them in order to turn towards Jon. She doesn't even bat an eyelash over him appearing from a door that wasn't there a few moments ago. "Hi. Not awkward, just annoying. And not 'ex' anything until -he- signs the divorce he filed for." Layla draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, "I'm sorry. This isn't anything about you. Hi. I'm Layla. I've been flying for what seems like weeks now, all over Egypt, then England, now here... It's been one epicly bad bad bad day." Then she's looking back to Marc, "By the way, did you know there's a cult of Apophis after you? Because there's a cult of Apophis after you. They took me when they couldn't find you. So congratulations, your grand plan failed as epicly as the marriage."
Marc Spector	Marc manages to catch the sheaf and stares at it. "I..." he stammers. It's a lot to take in. He sets the sheaf on the altar of Khonshu. Not the best place for it, but it's what he's got at hand.     "I... what?" he asks, his eyes widening at Layla. "Cult of Apophis?" he repears. "Gods above and below, are you... are you ok?" he asks, seeming concerned. More concerned than a separated spouse would usually feel. "What are you ta==?" he begins.
Jonathan Sims	For a moment, Jon /stares/ at Marc. "You /lied/ to me!" he starts. "When you came into my office, I /specifically/ told you I had /one/ rule--"     Then what he's hearing actually catches up with his mouth, and he turns to gape at Layla this time. "Wait. Cult of... what? No. That's not... there can't be..." He rubs at his face. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, /fuck/."     He sighs and goes to slump in a chair near the statue of Ma'at. "/Are/ you alright? Did you run into a bloke calling himself the 'Sun King' at any point? I suppose that could be something he's trying to do, prop up Apophis to prove himself by overcoming..." He frowns, and then shakes his head.     "Sorry. I'm Jon. Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. Avatar of Ma'at, and formerly Marc's therapist. I emphasize /formerly/."
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	"Well, clearly, I'm still alive. And in my right mind given how pissed I am at you," Layla grouses at him even as she paces a little, back and forth, going to look at one statue, then another, staring up into the stone faces. "Am I -alright-? Not for the last four years, two monts, one week, and..." she turns her left hand inward to check her watch, "and three days." She looks back to him, "But I'm dealing." Then over to Jon, "Layla Abdallah El-Faouly. Pity on the former part, he needs it." She flits a sharp glance back towards Marc. As to the questions he puts forth, she shakes her head, "No, but they were taking me somewhere, to meet who I presume is going to be the Avatar of Apophis. They weren't really big on talking. Not even to me, and I can be pretty good at getting people to talk when I need to." Letting out a breath, she finds a sturdy enough column, or the wall, leaning back against it, arms folding over her chest as she looks back and forth between Marc and Jon. "I'm blaming you, by the way, for the kidnapping." She clearly means Marc, not Jon. "I had to get outside help. And now, all that 'protection' you tried to do means absolutely nothing because I'm now in it as deep as you are." Layla glances around again, "You're going to need to update the decor."
Marc Spector	Marc frowns at Layla for a moment. "As deep as..." Her words seem to dawn on him. "Oh... oh no. I... I left to keep you out of this life. To keep you -safe-" he says stepping forward. "Who is it?" he asks. He's dismissed the insults and blame. She has every right to level the blame on him, he knows this.     He looks to Jon. "I can't..." he says looking over his shoulder at the statue of Khonshu. "Can you..." he asks, gesturing to Layla. "I don't know... feel if she is still... herself?" He knows some gods have a tendenciy to take more out of their vessels than others. If one of them has taken hold of his--his -wife- he would have to have more words for them.
Jonathan Sims	There's a flicker of something like guilt that goes through Jon's expression as Layla says 'pity about the former,' but he pushes that away and gets up to go grab a bottle of wine off the offering plates at the base of the statue of Khonshu. He almost idly gestures with his glowing green hand and conjures up wine glasses. "Marc, we're drinking Khonshu's wine," he says in a firm tone.     As he pours the wine, he peers at Layla for a few moments. "There's power there. Definitely an avatar, but not of anyone... mmmm. It's less constant than mine or even yours. More power that can be called than a constant hanging around sort of thing. I don't think... I don't think this deity would take someone's will away like that. It's kinder, gentler."     He walks over to offer the first glass of wine to Layla, frowning slightly. He can see her own exhaustion and frustration in her aura, and his expression is sympathetic. "I think it's yours to explain the details though," he adds softly.
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	"Yeah, well, when you didn't show up to sign the divorce papers, I started looking for you. Came close a couple times, but you always managed to somehow be gone by the time I could get there. Know why, now." Layla squint-glares at Marc for a moment, then sighs and rubs at her eyes. "Anyways. Apparently some of my black market contacts weren't very happy with me over some past dealings. So they gave me up to the Cult of Apophis when they found out they were looking for Marc." Layla blinks as Jon stares at her for a slightly too long for comfort moment. "Uhhhhh, you could have just asked." She draws in a deep breath and straightens from the wall, then throws her arms out to either side and... FWOOSH! It's seamless, the transition between her rumpled travelling clothes and the ceremonial garb. Complete with metal wings! "I am the Scarlet Scarab. Avatar of Taweret." Layla looks to Marc with a sigh, "She thought you needed protection. Can't imagine -why-." Her tone couldn't be drier if they were in the Gobi Desert. Taking the offered glass from Jon with a nod, she snifs it, then takes a swallow, then lets out a breath, "Not bad. But you're right. Taweret and I came to an agreement.. quickly, of course, given the circumstances... but she was very happy to get an Avatar and was promising all sorts of nice things." Pausing, she cocks her head, "She reminds me of the 'fun aunt'. You know the one. ALways cheerful, never had children of her own so she loves to spoil the nieces and nephews? Like that."
Marc Spector	Marc takes a step back at the change. "How... I..." Even -he- can't summon his garb that way. He frowns and suddenly feels something he's never experienced before. Envy. Envy over Jon and now Layla, both of them seem so in tune with there patrons. And he's... without his now. He frowns. "That's... Taweret. It sounds like her, yeah." He rubs the back of his neck.     "I guess I'm glad your safe... even if it came with..." he gestures. "I... look I... can this wait?" he asks, gesturing to the sheaf. "There's... a lot going on and this Cult of Apophis is just one more thing on the list. I've lost Khonshu... we might have a diety war with Macha killing Morrigan in front of the pyramids of Giza... and now..." He shakes his head. "It's just... there's a lot."
Jonathan Sims	Jon steps back a bit, eyes widening, clearly impressed. "Oh, that's /brilliant/. I need to learn to do that." He grins at Layla. "Sorry, about... umm... I see things. It's kind of my whole... deal? Also I'm a /little/ bit loopy after getting doused by Chaos magic earlier." He waves a hand, as if to shrug that off, then goes to pour and hand off another glass of wine to Marc.     "I would say a Cult of Apophis goes /right/ to the top of the list, Marc. I mean, it's sort of obviously connected, don't you think?" He ticks off on his fingers. "You've got this asshole who stole my daughter's blood and declared himself Amon-Ra." He rolls his eyes to show what he thinks of /that/. "You've got Khonshu sealed away, after a warning from the lands of the dead. And then this cult of Apophis... maybe someone was trying to get you out of the way...?"     Then he blinks and makes a circular gesture in the air. "Wait, go back, Macha did /what/? Where?!"
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	Layla stands straight and looks to Marc, "Probably because your and Khonshu's relationship is more like a bad case of Stockholm's Syndrome. Taweret and I... talk. She's actually really nice. It was rocky at first, I was a little resentful that she wouldn't just, you know... help. But after a bit, and meeting some of the people the Avatar's deal with, getting used to one another... she's really not that bad. And we have pretty similar goals." She lifts a shrug as she takes another mouthful of the wine. Looking to Jon, she stage whispers, "We did have a -really- big fight when she said she would show me where Marc was but only if I would agree to protect him. She won, though. In the end, she got me with the argument that we need Marc to save the world from Apophis and we can't just let the world die." Another mouthful and her gaze drops to the papers. She shrugs with a level of casualness that she doesn't really feel, "It's waited four years, I can't see a few more weeks changing anything." She flicks her gaze up to Marc, "You want to hold them or should I?"
Marc Spector	Marc answers Layla first. "I can hold on to them..." he says. "I've got an office here at the Mission." He gestures toward the lobby of the place and sighs turning his attention partly to Jon. "Morrigan's... dead I guess..." he says. "Macha showed up and speared her at the and the end of the Happy Harbor trip, during the light show they do at the pyramids? Just rose up from the sands and shoved a spear into her heart."     He makes a face. "She sacrificed herself to keep the kids safe... big magical boom." He sighs and shakes his head. "I wish I could've done -something- but... nothing... and with her killing someone on Egyptian soil, I don't know that the gods are going to just let that slide. You know that as well as I do."
Jonathan Sims	Jon frowns between the two of them. "So," he says, "full disclosure: shortly after he... left you? He came to me for therapy. The first day in my private practice, actually. He was my third patient." A sigh. "This was before I became Archivist or an avatar of anything. He revealed the whole 'Moon Knight' business, and I insisted on /truth/ if nothing else. That holding back was alright but it wouldn't work if he /lied/." A pause. "Well, he lied. Claimed you were divorced. I cannot really say anything further, but... I might suggest couple's counseling, unless you really are set on the divorce."     He sighs. "Ma'at and I talk. Becoming her avatar... was actually something I planned. I was killed and my body destroyed. This body is... actually, in some ways, hers. I still feel oddly... distant from her sometimes. I suppose I'm still adjusting." He frowns quietly down into his wine.     After a moment, he adds, "I'm sorry to hear about Dr. MacIntyre. I... don't know... would Macha just attack someone on Egyptian soil without bothering to ask? Does that even matter? I suppose, if it... if it troubles you, I can see what I can find out?" He taps the side of his head.
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	"Okay. Better than me carrying them around in a backpack all the time." Which might explain the stained and worn state of them. She looks between the two men, brows lifting, "Macha... Irish Goddess of War, Macha? Was in -Egypt-? Damn, I was just there like.. three days ago, too." Shaking her head, she looks to Jon, "Well... to be completely fair to Marc, he DID file. He just... forgot that he has to actually sign the papers. So he might well have thought the divorce was a done deal. I could have had a friend of mine forge the signaturae but that seems kind of... wrong, you know? Stealing back stolen artifacts is one thing, but signing off on someone's divorce papers..." She shrugs and finishes her glass of wine. "Anyways, to his way of thinking, he probably thought he was divorced. So he didn't intentionally lie to you." She looks back to Marc and lifts a shrug, motioning to him, "I would say tell him that, since he's the one that filed. Also, what's this about Khonshu being sealed? Is that why Taweret was so het up about my being here to protect you?"
Marc Spector	"From context I suspect there is more to it than something as simple as a unplanned attack" Marc replies. "Something about her sister's being sealed in someone..." He shakes his head. "I don't know that we're going to get answers postulating here. Which is why I needed to talk to you... you have more of a direct link to them than I do. Now more than ever." He sighs and looks back at Layla.     He offers her a shrug. "Possibly. A few weeks ago... during the lunar eclipse... something... happened. I don't know how or where but Khonshu was sealed away. We suspect it was by this asshole calling himself the Sun King. Avatar of Ra. Which... if so, what he did was a pretty shit way to ground his kid... at least in some texts."
Jonathan Sims	"Given that the first time we ran into this 'Sun King,' he was working with /Bushman/..." Jon sighs. "I doubt this is actually coming from Ra in that sense. I'd expect they want you out of the way, for... whatever reason. Maybe just that you keep interfering with things, although..." He frowns. "Although Apophis isn't anything the Eye of Ra was /ever/ connected to, that I know of... so maybe this is a whole other group...?"     He reaches up to pull down his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'll ask about Macha. With Khonshu... I think we're going to need to head to Egypt at some point and figure out what was done to seal him away. But I think... I think there's some work you need to do. I /suppose/ if you didn't /lie/ then that's not the reason for..." He gestures vaguely at Marc. "All this."
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	"Oh! She's trying to release the souls of her sister Goddesses, but rather than being locked into an -object-, she's claiming they're locked into -people-. That makes more sense. Even Gods and Goddesses associated with War don't make it a history of traipsing into someone else's back yard and picking a fight." Layla pauses, then sighs, "Unless they're Greek. Or Norse. Those mythologies are rife with it." Shaking her head, she shifts gears once more and looks between Marc and Jon, "Uhhhhhh, guys? I can ask Taweret. About Khonshu, I mean. I don't know about this Sun King stuff, but Taweret might know something about unsealing a God. Seems like something that would fall under her... arena." Layla lifts a shrug and lifts both brows, "At least that way when we head back to Egypt, we'll have a starting point."
Marc Spector	Marc shrugs his shoulders at Layla's suggestion, glancing to Jon briefly. "Worth a shot" he says. "I'm pretty much relegated to basic duties these days. I can wear the armor and that will protect me just fine from normal strikes but anything moving into the supernatural range and I'm out of my league. Not to mention..." He frowns and looks aside.     Now's not the time to spring that little facet of his life on her. Maybe later, but right now, he wasn't ready.     He looks at Jon. "I didn't lie intentionally. It's not like I've been divorced before. You'd think the four signatures I had to give them while getting the paperwork done would've been enough..." He sighs. "Look, I'm sorry and I promise I haven't lied about anything else, accidentally or not."
Jonathan Sims	Jon nods firmly to Layla. "I think that's an excellent idea. You're right that it's obvious that you're here, now, for a reason. The gods rarely work on coincidence." He smiles at her, trying to be friendly. Just wait until he finds out where she went to college.     He sighs and looks to Marc. "It's fine," he demurs. "If you thought... look, it's fine. I'm just on edge lately. Alright? There's a lot going on. This is all... as much as the idea of a bloody /cult to Apophis/ worries me, it is /also/ one more thing."     He looks to Layla. "Do you have somewhere to stay in the area? Once you're settled from travel, I think we might want to talk. There are... things to tell you, and I'd like to get an outline of this cult from you. I thought I knew about most of the cults to Kemetic gods, but evidently not."
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	Layla squints at Marc for a moment, his sudden hesitation not lost on her. There's more that he's keeping from her. She lets out a breath through her nose and gives a nod, "Okay. Well then, maybe you can reach out on the black market and follow up on whoever dropped a dime on me to the cult? They might have some information we can extract from them. And -that- is definitely your cup of tea." She's trying, she really is. She looks to Jon and smiles, "Exactly. Taweret even said she wanted me here to keep an eye on Marc, so clearly she knew something was going on. I'm betting she's waiting to see how much you two will tell me first." Oh that conversation is going to be SO fun. "Hm? Oh! Yeah, I let out this amazing flat in Gotham? The rent there is amazingly reasonable." Oh this sweet summer child. Just wait until she finds out why. But! She does have accomodations! Nodding to Jon, Layla offers, "Sure, you can come to my flat, I'll make tea. I even brought biscuits from England, if I haven't missed that accent? I have Jammy Dodgers, too. I wasn't sure if I would be able to get them over here."
Marc Spector	"You know me so well" Marc replies to Layla blandly. He doesn't like dealing with market dealers, but they are a necessary source of information. He doesn't let on that most of the time it was Jake who dealt with them, but she doesn't have to know that. Perhaps he can nudge some of that into motion... he hopes.     He frowns at the mention of keeping information from Layla. There was so much he needed to explain to her, so much he would've before but her safety was his number one priority. Knowing her she would've called him an idiot then. She probably would do the same even now... and she'd be right.     He puts a hand to his head, the waves of pressure had been increasing since he got back from Egypt and he could feel he was losing his grip on himself. He needed to get away before Steven or Jake made their own debut in sudden and unaware fashion. "Is there anything else? I should get back to my place and unpack..." he says. "Still a bit weary... from the trip." It's a lie, but it's better than the truth right now.
Jonathan Sims	Jon kind of... stares at Layla for a moment. Then clears his throat. "Ahh. Gotham's a lovely city, in its own way. I interned at Arkham; I can recommend a few places, if you like. You certainly have to check out the Onion Maiden food truck." He smiles. "And... yes. I'm from England, although I've lived here in the States for over a decade. I pop over to London by portal to get biscuits and Jammy Dodgers from time to time. My daughter goes through Jammy Dodgers like they're all that's fueling her growth spurt."     The fond parental smile is replace by a worried frown. "Marc..." A pause. "Keep your phone nearby, yeah? I'll check on you soon. And... warn other people I might be checking in, hmm?" He raises an eyebrow.
Layla Abdalla El-Faouly	Layla stares at Marc for a long moment, that piercing 'I know you' look, like she can actually HEAR his thoughts. She can't, but she's pretty good at reading him. After a long moment, she steps forward and the ceremonial garb fades away back to her normal clothing. She reaches up and grips his shoulder, "You know, your deal with Khonshu... pretty sure it didn't involve saving -him- from being sealed away. You might have some leeway to negotiate the bargain over again if you free him." Then she leans in to brush just the barest hint of a kiss to his cheek. Turning towards Jon, she lifts a brow at Jon, "Is there something I should know about Gotham? I mean, I grew up on dig sits and in Cairo... I can handle myself. I'll take recommendations though. I'm going to bet there isn't a good Palestinian place anywhere around, so whatever might come close would be excellent." She glances back to Marc and looks like she might want to say more, but then simply sighs softly and looks back to Jon, "Here's my number. Let me know when you want to catch me up." She offers out a slip of paper with her number hastily scrawled on it. "It's the same as ever, Marc so... you know. Reach out."
Marc Spector	Marc doesn't believe her words but he nods in agreement to them. The kiss on his cheek makes him wince with guilt. There was so much. "It's not the safest of places... even compared to some of your digs it's... you should be fine, just keep your guard up when you're walking the streets." He let's Jon fill in any blanks in his information (there were many.)     To Jon he does offer a nod. "I will... it'll be near and if they'll listen... I'll let the others know you'll be around." He glances again at Layla and nods as he starts to make his way for the doors. He stops before he reaches the exit of the main hall and looks back to Layla. "You look good, Layla. Really, really good." Then he's turning and leaving the Mission to make his way out, feeling the idea of Marc Spector fading from his mind even as he walks.