Steele & Butler (1)

The tray was sparkling silver in the slanted beams of the morning. Ms Steele watched it come out of the corner of her eye, even as she turned the page of her novel, perched in her chair by the window. It was a comfortable chair, and the spot was perfect for her needs, even as she relaxed in the sun of the mediterranean summer.

The tray made a light ringing as the cover was pulled away to expose two scones slathered in butter and jam, accompanied by a small teapot, two cups, and three segments of orange. Jane smiled to herself and reached out to snag a feg of the orange, her hand snaking past the stream of tea.

"And how are things today, Ashan?" she asked the butler as she bit down on the orange.

"Things are very well, ma'am. Thank you for asking. And you, ma'am? Any adventures on the cards for today?" Ashan laid the tray on the small side table, and offered Jane the plate of scones, the underside neatly cradled by a napkin.

"That's the thing with adventures, Ashan," Jane said with a twinkle in her eye, "you're rarely given time to schedule for them," Jane smiled and took the proferred plate, biting deeply into a scone.

"Very wise, ma'am, very wise," Ashan said with aplomb. "Anything else I can get you this morning, ma'am?"

Jane squinted at the man, trying to determine whether he was ready to crack or not, but his calm face - not dour, she told herself again - betrayed nary a hint of his thoughts. "The usual, but hold the eggs, please," she said, and as he turned away, added, "You will smile for me, Ashan."

"I am smiling, ma'am," Ashan said with no trace of sarcasm.

Jane smiled and returned her gaze to her book, peering above her glasses out of the window. Seven. She shook her head. What was the director up to this time?

The window looked out onto the thoroughfare of a small but bustling seaside town in the middle of nowhere on the continent. Quaint and mysterious stores lined the cobbles streets, and holiday makers and sunny faced denizens alike wandered amongst them chattering in a mixture of languages and smiles. There was no discrimination here, whether new or old, everyone was a friend or friendly, which is why the short haired youngster with the frown on his face stood out like a sore thumb. Jane was quite sure that he was unaware how many other agents were in the crowd, or he would be terrified.

Jane caught her lip between her teeth in momentary worry, her hand resting against her thigh reassuringly. She shook her head then, and dismissed it. The lodge was a bastion in these wilds, unspoken protection against all sorts of hidden and not so hidden dangers that lay in her line of work, and it was unyielding. She yawned and wiggled her toes inside her soft leather ankle-high boots, and took another bite of the scone. Well, it was none of her business, at least not yet. Eight. She grit her teeth on a bite as the youngster looked at her again. The rookie was going to get himself killed.