Lion Head Mesa A fake brother, who steals your jeans.

When the girl spoke it was not the answer Jawahir had expected, nor did they like it. This darkened the courtesan's expression minutely; but Jawahir could hide such things and did so. They opened their mouth to speak but the girl spoke first, a tumult of things.

A request. How bold, this wretched girl! To come here and spoil things further for Jawahir yet hold a need of their own. A sister.

Ursus, yes, we are friends. That was all the answer Jawahir was prepared to lend at this point, holding their tongue on anything that might be useful to Lilitu. If she wanted more she would have to barter.

I cannot present your refusal myself. You are here now - it is proper to address the pharaoh yourself and let it be known. Drawing at first closer to Lilitu, then motioning as if to journey with her, Jawahir wordlessly herded her towards the palace. Lilitu might make a fine gift for the pharaoh even if it was to refuse the arrangement.

I will introduce you to him. He is in very good spirits these days, so your visit will be short and sweet - and you may even ask him about your sister. It was left up to Lilitu if she would follow, though.