She looked up with huge, blue doe eyes, which stared into his eyes with an expression that he would place somewhere between surprise, fascination, and pure idiocy (after all, she was staring at him like some stupid five year old). "High Priest Seth," she whispered before standing up and walking over to him. She stopped a foot away.

His lips pursed at the mention of his previous incarnation's name and opened his mouth to tell her that he wasn't Seth and she must be mistaken. Instead, "thank you" came out. His eyebrows knitted together, wondering what in the world was wrong with him. Last time he talked in a dream, he had control over his vocal chords.

He walked towards her and stopped only when he was much too close for his own comfort. He didn't want to but... It was something like a trance. Except he did it consciously. Or maybe it was more like when someone jumps up, screaming "Yes!" upon good news and then realizes that he just did something really stupid and everyone was looking at him. Either way, Seto decided, he didn't really care because he was still standing much too close to some stranger. His hand somehow or other grazed against her hand.

Or rather, would've. It fell through. His eyes darted from her hand back to her face, waiting for an explanation. "I'm not...here, exactly," she replied apologetically. "Would you..." she looked nervous as she spoke, as if wondering if those lines would be appropriate, "Would you like me to?"

Seto nodded mutely. Upon realizing that he did, he dearly hoped not. But apparently, the Fates were not kind to those who mocked them. Not that he would stop mocking them anytime soon just because of this incident.

He wondered if this was the part where she would fade away slowly with a smile on her face like in the movies. And he wondered if he would then grasp helplessly at her like in the movies. Trying to conjure up an image of the latter but failing, he decided otherwise.

Suddenly a loud, mechanical wailing began. Seto whipped over to his left instinctively to pinpoint the source of the sound: his alarm clock.

Groaning, he pulled himself up from his bed and slammed a hand on his alarm clock before rubbing his eyes sleepily. Well, that didn't usually happen in the movies. Actually, did they? It wasn't as if he had been to a movie any time recently. Nor did he watch any contemporary films in the first place. With the downward way civilization was going, he didn't want to know what happened in comedies these days, a few decades after Monty Python. They couldn't possibly get any worse. Unless they made comedies about anatomically incorrect cartoon characters (consisting of a stupid dad, a talking dog that was smarter than the rest of the family, and a cynical bastard of a baby) and had perverted jokes/scenes every single episode. And if such a show did exist, it would prove that civilization was declining at an astronomical rate.

Seto slid himself off the bed and began his daily routine, getting ready to head to his office, where he camped out for most of his waking hours. Twelve hours later, in the dead of the night, he deemed it safe to leave the building; with both the company's finance and his temper intact. Paparazzi had to sleep sometime, right? And with all their ridiculous questions, they couldn't possibly be intelligent enough to work out the concept of shifts.

Flipping his cell-phone open, he ordered his limo driver to come over and pick him up in front of the skyscraping office building. He came out into the streets slowly, knowing that he would have to wait a while anyways for the limo to come. Pulling close the doors (as there was no point of having a door which required a cardkey to unlock, if the door wasn't closed in the first place), he glanced around to make sure that no one would yelp and come to him screaming for an autograph or a picture. He didn't spot such a person, but he did spot a girl with extremely light colored hair that stood out against the darkness of her surroundings. His first instinct was to wonder why an albino would be in Asia, of all places.

His next course of action was to recall the dream and widen his eyes in a look that obviously said, "Oh, crap." He turned to go back inside the building because there was no way he was going to deal with all this Egyptian nonsense – especially not at midnight. Remembering he bought that expensive cardkey lock, he cursed mentally and fumbled in his coat pockets for his key.

He grabbed it in relief and after stealing a quick glance at the girl to make sure she was still facing away from him, he swiped the card. The machine beeped and he froze. Slowly, he looked at Kisara. She was staring at him. Great. He was just in the mood for another psycho idiot to preach to him about his past life and all that crap. At what time of the day could he ever get a break from all this nonsense?

"I think I know you from somewhere," she stated.

At that, Seto was a bit miffed. She thought she knew him from somewhere? Of course she's supposed to know him - he's all over the newspapers and television and internet! How could she only think she knew him? Despite his raging thoughts, his response came out calmly (albeit in his usual cold and snappy manner), "I'm a celebrity of sorts – you probably saw me on television or something."

"No, I mean...I think I know you personally."

"Well, you don't," he replied sharply and walked into the office building, pulling the door close behind him. He would've slammed it, but those infernal expensive hinges prevented him from doing that.

She stared at him through the glass for a moment, before deciding to walk on. He heaved a sigh of relief.

-

Seto walked into his mansion of a house and announced his arrival to his brother. It was two days since he saw that weird girl – and no, he was not going to call her by name – and he hadn't heard from her since. If he had, he wasn't sure what he would've done. Probably scream at her, call Isis to scream at her too, and then beg (in his threatening way, of course) for help.

"Seto!" Mokuba rushed out to greet him. Seto's complexion turned ghastly pale. Being tugged along by his brother was none other than Kisara.

"What is she doing here?" he managed to croak out.

"Oh, well; I met her at Yugi's shop – I was visiting there to get some new cards – and she looked sort of helpless of confused, so I talked to her. And she said that she knew you and you guys were related in ancient Egypt and she didn't have any place to stay, so..." he laughed sheepishly, hoping that his brother wouldn't mind too much.

Seto was quick to drag his brother into another room and discuss. They came out five minutes later, Mokuba with a grin and Seto wondering why he gave in.

Mokuba broke the good news to Kisara and proceeded to take her on a tour of the mansion, leaving Seto to wish he never had a brother. After thinking and re-thinking about what caused him to lose the argument, Seto decided that it wasn't relevant and it would be better for him to find some way to rid himself of the nuisance instead.

And who better to ask about 'voodoo' than a certain Egyptian? "Marik, get your sister on the phone," he commanded instantly through his cellphone.

"May I ask who this is?" Marik asked, unused to being ordered around by men (by his sister was a different story).

"No; now get your sister on the phone."

He shrugged and did as told, "Isis! Someone's on the phone for you!"

"Who is it?" she called back, from several rooms away and started towards him.

"Dunno – he wouldn't tell me; but he's speaking in Japanese. Secret guy you're dating online? I promise I won't make fun of you."

"I'm not dating someone online," she snatched the phone from him, "Hello?"

"Beat that brat into shape for me, will you?" Seto commented from the other line, having heard the conversation.

She ignored the comment, "What do you want?"

"Psycho girl gave me a visit and now she's living under my roof."

The other line went silent for a second before Isis replied with, "Well, that happened fast. Do the Japanese not court?"

"Pardon?"

"I said: do the Japanese not court. Court is synonymous with woo and date," she supplied.

"I know what court means!" he snapped, "And why are you assuming anything of that sort? Mokuba picked her up from the streets like a lost puppy and now I'm stuck feeding her or else I'll upset Mokuba."

"Ah. And you need my help to do what?"

"I don't need your help," was the sharp, instinctive reply.

"So I suppose you called halfway around the planet to check in on me? How considerate of you. For your information, I'm doing fine; thank you."

Seto released a soft sound that was somewhere between a hiss and "tch". Men have genius; but women have wit. "I don't care how you're doing. You're going to help me get rid of the psycho girl; whether you're being hunted down by terrorists right now or in the middle of a month long fast or giving a lecture about destiny and gods and all that crap."

"I do believe you're confusing Egypt with the Middle East," she snapped. "And even if I lived in the Middle East; you're completely stereotyping them. They're not infested with terrorists; nor are they all Islamic fundamentalists." Seto wondered briefly if she would even bother to put up with him if it wasn't that she thought he was the reincarnation of one of her gods or kings or whatever.

"Thank you for the correction; I care either way," he sarcastically replied, "Now, can you exorcise psycho girl from Egypt or do I have to fly you over here?"

"Exorcise? She's not a demon."

"No, she's not," he replied with a tone resembling good cheer, "She's a schizophrenic idiot who thinks she's the reincarnation of whatever. Now, use your voodoo magic to get her out of my house and into the mental asylum where she escaped from."

"I can't make her go away," she decided to ignore the voodoo comment; it wasn't as if he ever took her corrections to heart. "She'll go of her own accord once she's satisfied."

"That's what you told me last time and look where that ended up. So this time: if she doesn't leave my house, you're not leaving it either," Seto smirked gloatingly.

"Pardon?" Isis asked, trying to make sense of Seto's words. The line went dead without a response.