Moon Knight: If Episode 2 had Continued...

A Look Out at the City

         Times like this came few and far between, especially given how close Arthur was getting to finding Ammit's tomb. At any moment there was a risk of Harrow finding a new piece of information, or taking a step forward that neither he nor Khonsu would be able to catch up to. Sleep wasn't even a possibility at this point, given how vulnerable it left the body for Steven's control. The last thing he needed was to wake up on a plane heading home.

     Because of this, it'd been beyond a surprise to find Khonsu silent after their initial arrival in Cairo. Silence tended to mean one of two things. Either the God was too busy figuring out their next move to berate him, or, he was being given a break.

     Marc preferred the latter.

     A room was soon booked at a local inn, and the Mercenary settled into to the shoddy place he had to work with. Wi-Fi was piss poor at best, and he hadn't exactly brought any books, so the single bottle of Abarka he'd bought downstairs would have to do. A rather retro "complementary cassette player" played songs from before he was even born to wrap up the rather depressing set up he had going on. Not that he would complain, he'd gotten shitfaced in much worse.

     The next few hours would be a dissociative blur. Not in the same way that came whenever he swapped. That plane was much stiffer, tight and hard to remain grasped onto. This type of dissociation only came when all life-or-death distractions dwindled, and Marc was left with nothing but his own mind to keep him company. His mind, and he supposed Steven, albeit the brit was the last person he wanted to hear from.

    Marc rubbed his eyes. It was a miracle he hadn't fallen asleep yet. His entire body seemed to be weighed down with enough force to keep him glued to the same spot on the floor. Thoughts, feelings, sensations, it was all numbed down to a palatable sense of content that he rarely managed to find without outside aid. Every time something negative attempted to bubble up, it would be swiftly soothed by the calming warmth the booze provided. A slight smile pricked the corner of his mouth, if only for a second.

     "You feeling good there Marc, hm? Poising my body for your own bloody amusement?"

     Marc's whole body stiffened with the angry hiss in his ear. It'd came with little warning, and left him searching the room for anything he could even see his reflection in. The curtains were drawn, though even if they were open there wasn't any glass to speak of. Any possible shiny dining wear was several feet away on the table, the floor was no where near polished- it took several moments before his eyes finally caught wind of the movement going on inside the bottle. He scrunched his nose, holding the canister up closer to his face. "Does this even count?"

     "Hey, I don't control where your stupid cross eyes see me. I'm just happy I can finally talk to you. Do you have any idea how long I've been floundering around this little limbo?" Steven huffed, seemingly crossing his arms. Most of his expression was blurred, though whether it was because of the glass's distortion or his own eyes, he wasn't sure. He dropped the glass with a huff. "Around a day, we swapped last night. You didn' miss much, just a lot of fuckin planes."

     "So, we're actually in Cairo? Like, the Cairo?"

     Marc nodded.

     "Oh my god, oh my god. I can't believe it. I've always wanted to travel here. I mean, obviously we need to leave, but to think we're actually in the city-"

     It was at that moment Marc began to feel the familiar tug at the back of his brain. It was gentle, but noticeable. Especially in the vulnerable state he found himself in now. He sunk back further against the side of the bed. "What'er you doin' Steven?"