Michael was confused when the woman started talking. It sounded Egyptian, but was definitely a dialect he didn't recognize. His shoulders slumped, his breathing slowing as the air seemed to bear down on him. Befuddled, he recognized the words 'kneel' and 'goddess', which only confused him further.<br/><br/><br/>He fell to his knees, wincing as they struck the bare floor. His head hung, shoulders heaving as he tried to breathe. It felt like he was trying to suck in air through leather. Michael closed his eyes, furrowing his brows as he tried to make sense of her words. It took him a very long moment between Cleopatra's questions and his answer, "I... I'm... Michael Wells. This is the British Museum, a storage room." He swallowed hard, slowly lifting his head to look up at the queen.