"It was blackmail," she said with a laugh. "I wasn't allowed to take martial arts with Dad unless I took dance lessons at the same time. Mom swore I would be glad for it later because it would improve my technique."

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"It's helpful, isn't it?" he asks, amused that he'd found the same to be true. "I mean, all my combat skills just sort of... showed up initially, and I've been training them since. But the dance classes have actually helped."

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"It was helpful for balance and strength training. I surprised Dad enough that he put me in some of the academy classes for more training. Mom's been pushing to have ballet classes taught at the academy for years."

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He nods. "Ballet's a tough art to master. Requires a lot of physical skill."

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"I wasn't good enough to get past the class recitals, but I'm a demon in the training rooms. Which I need to lure you into so we can practice more. Make it more interesting with a wager?"

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"What sort of wager?" he asks.

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"Well..." Sammy released his hand to take his arm and move in closer to his side. "There is always the standby of breakfast in bed. A massage when requested. Or the loser plans the next date, anything the winner wants to do. A free pass wager."

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"But... how is that losing?" he asks, uncoiling his arm from her so he can wrap it around her shoulder.

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"It all depends on how you look at it. Sure, it doesn't seem like losing, but there are degrees of losing. You could win a wager for a massage. I could choose to give it to you dressed in track suit instead of a flimsy beach cover up."

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"You're beautiful no matter what you're wearing." He pauses. "Or... not wearing, as sometimes happens."

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"Like a wash cloth?" She couldn't lean in closer and still walk, but she wanted to. "So...about these barriers and limitations of yours. It sounds a little like you're preparing for a serious confrontation."

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He considers a moment, getting his thoughts in order.

"Cairo is very Western in many ways, particularly among the younger people, but there still many people who are very strict about... relationships." He considers. "Your father is very protective of you, and I want to honor that."

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"I can understand that," Sammy said with a nod. "He is very protective of me. I like to think that he also trusts my judgment, or the wonderful example my parents set for me will be wasted."

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He considers this a moment. "Alright. So no serious confrontation. He trusts your judgment. So what does your judgment say?"

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She smiled. "You aren't going to hurt me in any way. Not on purpose. And we're going to work on your idea of barriers and limitations. It wasn't exactly what I expected."

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"Not intentionally, no," he admits. He pauses here, and takes her by the hand, turning her to face him. Here, the moon reflecting on the water, the trees around them, the cool air drawing them together for warmth... he can feel the courage to say what he wants to say.

"Sammy... I..."

"Your wallet!" a voice demands from off to the side of them. "Now!"

A group of older teens comes out of the woods, all packing heat, aiming them at the two of them.

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"Is this part of date?" Sammy asked, turning her head to look at the group. Guns, yay. Were they serious? "Dinner, dancing, danger? You really do know me, don't you?"

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Qamar cringes. Talk about rotten timing.

He rolls his eyes at the muggers. "Are you guys serious?" he asks.

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"What do you think? Quick and easy? They could hurt somebody with those popguns." She turned fully to face the teens. "Not handing over our wallets, so don't even think about that."

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"Seriously, guys," Qamar sighs, stepping towards them.

One of them aims the gun at Qamar's face. "Don't think about it, dude..."

Qamar grins. "Think about what?"

And then he's in motion, grabbing arm wielding the gun in his face, spinning it around until there's a snap of bone and a scream, while he simultaneously sends a kick out to knock another one to the ground.

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Sammy moved when the second one is kicked to the ground. When the time freeze released, she had a knee in the guy's back and his weapon in her hand. She'd delivered a smart rap to his head with it and now watched Qamar in action.

"Is it wrong how turned on I am by my boyfriend right now?" she asked of no one in particular while she watched.

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"I think," Qamar replies, flipping one of the muggers into another, "that its," he gives a roundhouse kick that sends another sprawling, "totally acceptable." He elbows the last one in the back of the head.

"Is that all of them?" He glances around at the unconscious or otherwise prone bodies lying around them. One is making a run for the trees. Qamar smirks and gestures to the fleeing criminal, as if to offer Sammy the opportunity.

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"For me? You give me the nicest presents." She gave it her best Southern Belle imitation before grinning and slipping into her second freeze.

A moment later she was looking down at the mugger who rolled over and clutched his face.

"He ran into the tree," she called over to Qamar. "Clumsy. They just don't make muggers like they used to. Would you happen to have any handcuffs on you?"

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Qamar grins and reaches into his coat, pulling out a collection of white plastic zip-cuffs.

"I'm always prepared," he offers.

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"So turned on," she said with another grin. "I'll call, you package? The police would love to meet these guys, I bet."

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