Categories > Movies > Mummy
Ships, Rick thought sourly, were a lousy way to travel. There was only so far you could go to get away from someone you were trying avoid. He lifted his flask of whiskey and took another swallow. Getting drunk was not on his list of things to do -- he had to stay alert if he was going to keep up with that damned librarian and her sand-for-brains older brother, not to mention that Hamunaptra was simply not the place to be off one's guard -- but it did help take the edge off.
He'd hoped he could avoid them for the majority of this little boat ride down the Nile, but so far he'd had lousy luck Already he'd had to rescue Jonathan from those Americans (odd how he spat that term with the same disgust as his English companions, even though he was American) and Evelyn from a creeping tarantula in her cabin.
She wouldn't admit that she'd been truly frightened by the furry menace, merely startled, but he'd seen and felt the way she'd trembled. She hadn't even thought to protest that she was only wearing her nightgown and could he please stop leering at her?
He hadn't been leering anyway; he'd been trying to breathe past the sudden hot confusion that spilled into his brain at the sensation of her against him, her soft curves readily discernible through the almost-nothing material. She'd clung to him, her rescuing knight, and then pulled away as if she'd been burned, retreating to the other side of the room and thanking him haughtily for coming to see about her.
He hadn't been able to mutter more than "Uh-huh" as he retreated from the room, closing the door behind him. Now he sat by the railing of the ship, sharpening one of his knives, and trying very hard not to think about it. He tipped the flask up one more time and groaned. Hamunaptra might scare him shitless, but it was a woman that was driving him to drink.
He'd hoped he could avoid them for the majority of this little boat ride down the Nile, but so far he'd had lousy luck Already he'd had to rescue Jonathan from those Americans (odd how he spat that term with the same disgust as his English companions, even though he was American) and Evelyn from a creeping tarantula in her cabin.
She wouldn't admit that she'd been truly frightened by the furry menace, merely startled, but he'd seen and felt the way she'd trembled. She hadn't even thought to protest that she was only wearing her nightgown and could he please stop leering at her?
He hadn't been leering anyway; he'd been trying to breathe past the sudden hot confusion that spilled into his brain at the sensation of her against him, her soft curves readily discernible through the almost-nothing material. She'd clung to him, her rescuing knight, and then pulled away as if she'd been burned, retreating to the other side of the room and thanking him haughtily for coming to see about her.
He hadn't been able to mutter more than "Uh-huh" as he retreated from the room, closing the door behind him. Now he sat by the railing of the ship, sharpening one of his knives, and trying very hard not to think about it. He tipped the flask up one more time and groaned. Hamunaptra might scare him shitless, but it was a woman that was driving him to drink.
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