For Ahkmenrah, the sounds of the museum waking up around him is as familiar as the dawn chorus. By the time Chris addresses him again, he's worked himself completely loose of the bandages, and has climbed into one of the nearby display stands to retrieve his robes.
"That's just the sound of the museum waking up," he offers, voice weaving out from the back of the display case, "Don't worry, it happens every night..."
Having shuffled into his robes and jewelry, he emerges from the display, with his crown tucked under one arm, and a brass Egyptian mirror clutched in his hand. Outside, there is the distant trumpeting of what sounds, to Ahkmenrah, like a wooly mammoth, but again, this is perfectly normal. He goes to tap Chris on the shoulder, and pushes the mirror towards him, "Hold this for me? I need to paint my face, and they," A nod to the Jackal guards, "Always hold it too high for me."
This is not strictly the duty of a night guard, but if Chris is going to wait for him anyway, then he might as well...
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"That's just the sound of the museum waking up," he offers, voice weaving out from the back of the display case, "Don't worry, it happens every night..."
Having shuffled into his robes and jewelry, he emerges from the display, with his crown tucked under one arm, and a brass Egyptian mirror clutched in his hand. Outside, there is the distant trumpeting of what sounds, to Ahkmenrah, like a wooly mammoth, but again, this is perfectly normal. He goes to tap Chris on the shoulder, and pushes the mirror towards him, "Hold this for me? I need to paint my face, and they," A nod to the Jackal guards, "Always hold it too high for me."
This is not strictly the duty of a night guard, but if Chris is going to wait for him anyway, then he might as well...