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Michael nods and keeps an eye on the three goons now that Isopel has pointed them out, ready to react if they try anything.

As Ispoel departs for Roses table, the barkeep comes over and with a nod of recognition towards Cuthbert Mawson and begins to clears away the empty cups

He snorts when he sees Isopel talking to Rose, "All night. Drinking hard that one, like a girl aiming for a train wreck."

Rose looks up in faint annoyance at Isopel, then shrugs and takes the bottle, taking a hefty swig.

"What do you want?, I'm not much company so if you just came here to give me a hard time you can go out the same way you came in...."

"People like that are the backbone of your business sir." Aswald says with a laugh, requesting another drink.

"It's Mrs. Bollacher, Mrs. Rose Bollacher," says Isopel feigning surprise, "you're the wife of the famous Egyptologist, Professor Bollacher.

"What on earth are you doing here? and by yourself?" Isopel glances at the suitcase. "Oh, I understand!"

Taking his cue from Michael, Terry shifts round in his chair, ready to intercede if the three fools wish to try anything untoward.

"What's with you two?" Aswald asks mockingly, having not seen the large men on the other side of the room.

Terry, without shifting his gaze to Aswald raises three fingers slightly off the table in front of him and nods wordlessly in the direction of the three 'dock workers.' He picks up his coffee with his other hand and breathes deeply of it's pungent aroma. "It sure smells like good coffee Mr Mawson. However did you find this place ... I been working the bars here for about a year now and never came across it before." whilst keeping the three in his line of sight at all times.

Aswald shifts his gaze to the men that his companion signaled to. Feeling a chill shoot down his spine he puts his hand on his machete.

Rose responds with a harsh laugh, "really, you undershstand do you, what, exactly do you undershtand?" she sways heavily to her side, picks something out of her bag and puts it on the table "like this ey, pretty young girl, this makes sense to you?, Well I'm glad something makes sense to someone, drove my husband mad, jealous, unbearable, I ran away....." at this her face drops at some remembered inner turmoil and she takes a further large lug of whiskey.

The object she has placed on the table is some sort of Idol, greenish, with wings, tentacles, it is unearthly and faintly horrific to behold.

To her three companions watching the three "workers" it is obvious that the appearance of the idol on the table is significant, there is muted pointing and frantic discussion between them.

Isopel takes in the idols strange appearance before returning her gaze to Rose. "Maybe I don't understand, Mrs. Bollacher, not nearly enough! But I do know that if you drink any more, by yourself, and in a foreign city . . . well, need I say more? Come with me and my friends, Rose, we'll look after you."

Rose eyes Isopel witheringly, as if the question does not even merit an answer, and points at the idol " Ever since my husband, Aaron found this... "

tears begin to run down her cheeks

"ever since he found it in that tomb, nothing has followed us but tragedy, you think I care what these people think (she waves expansively), I don't care what anyone thinks, he said this was the key to a great evil, so, heh, I am going to destroy it, as it has surely destroyed me, as it has driven me from Aaron, driven sense from his mind, wherever he is I hope one day he can forgive me, I hope he is safe"

she looks at the idol, tears now streaming down her cheeks, she looks away from Isopel at the table before her, lost in her thoughts, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat.

"Found the idol? Which tomb was it?" enquires Isopel soothingly. She looks over to her companions and shrugs--what do I do next?

Michael nods again and makes a slight waving gesture with his hand, indicating that she should keep talking, as he tries to overhear what the three men are saying. Every word is crystal clear.

Trying to act nonchalant Aswald speaks quietly to his companions. "You packing?" He asks eying the burly men on the other side of the bar, he certainly didn't want to go up against them with nothing but a machete.

Michael nods a third time, patting a bulge under his jacket.

Without taking his eyes off the three ruffians, Terry says "No, I have a handgun, but didn't think I'd need it so left it at my appartment. Wish I did have it now though, but perhaps the sight of Michaels 'piece' will be enough to intimidate our friends over there."