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Cleopatra lounges on the couch, with a glass of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers.

She seems to be reading over a stack of ancient paperwork, and sighing. It seems that even way back when, there's a lot of paperwork in ruling a country.

Though, the new stack she picks up, she smiles. Letters. Personal letters.

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Unfortunately Marlowe has a wide, general dislike for 'royalty' and people who act like royalty; he gives her a slow nod, tasting his brandy again.

Insert here you favorite crude metaphor about how people are just people in the end.

Well, when you've done everything to make your country the best...

You expect the best.

He could have words about that view, but it is not there and now, and more, it is none of his business.

So... "Philip Marlowe. All around common guy."

"Queen Cleopatra VII Philopator, Living Isis, Pharaoh of Upper and Lower Egypt...and a highly, hopefully, uncommon woman."

She takes another bite of cheese, then a sip of wine.

"Pleasure to meet you." His tone is polite and conventional.

This man is not much thrilled, but he will keep to the limits of good manners.

"The pleasure, of course, is mutually shared."

She will also keep to good manners.

The detective smiles a bit, regarding the Queen with renewed interest, pondering she might have some redeeming qualities after all.. "Is it? I never imagined a queen would get much thrilled with meeting a common guy."

"It takes all sorts of individuals to make up the world," she says quietly. "Some that claim to be common...or of the people, are really the most magnificent."

Some of the finest men in Rome are not patricians by birth.

That makes him nod only, for a bit, before speaking up again. "There's not much you can build without the work of the common people."

She grins a little. "The greatest monuments in my lands have been built in that fashion."

"Monuments to the pride of a few, made from the sweat of many." Dryly spoken: Marlowe does not like the idea of hauling thousands upon thousands of stones to build a monument to metaphorical penis envy.

"And the next monument must be larger and more impressive, because the next king or queen must go higher than the previous."

She looks at him completely straightfaced, betraying no emotion.

"You seem to be from the future. From what I've been able to gather, some point in the twentieth century, correct? They've lasted that long and will last a lot longer. That is a testament to the endurance of those that built and had them built. I could think of no better monument to the ingenious of my people."

She takes a bite of cheese and picks up the stack of paperwork again.

"I imagine how many houses could be built, how many fields tilled, how many mines worked, how many herds taken care of, and even, how many soldiers could be trained if people were trained from that mass of people and mountain of labor." He shakes head. "Make a kingdom to endure, not a pile of stones."

She chuckles, "Rome comes to Egypt to feed its people. We have an abundance, and we are the most magnificent nation in the world. My people, even the slaves, are well-tended."

Except, of course, the ones that piss her off...or wind up being shot with arrows when Antony teaches her how to shoot a bow. Naughty, naughty.

"Every kingdom eventually comes to an end. It is the nature of things for people to be forgotten. But it is hard to forget what we have given to the world."

"Extra classes in History courses in Universities, and jobs for glorified tomb-robbers." Marlowe watches her. "And not so glorified ones."

"History is what the future is built upon. Without past civilization there is not a future one. Without evidence of these past civilizations, there is no fact. There is merely conjecture."

She shrugs.

"History is unavoidable. It might as well be exciting."

"History teaches the errors people should not repeat." Marlowe shakes head. "Since the good things should be common sense."

"Not everything is common sense, and not everyone has sense. World-changing decisions are not things to be taken lightly and take more than the slightest bit of maneuvering."

She shrugs again, and finishes her wine, before criss-cross stacking the piles of paperwork.

And Marlowe decides to not taunt fate and the queen, letting the conversation die.

No point in being more of a prick, right?

And she will let it as well, getting back to work. About half way through her stacks, she remembers that she's left a very important document with her woman, Charmain...and has to go back to Alexandria.

Well, it was nice to get a bit of a break, and at least some of her work done...

Marlowe will watch her go.

Fairly interesting woman. Maybe at a later time he should be more civil, after all, she is doomed to a really bad end.

Maybe, yes.

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