Never Enough

4.

***So sorry it's a short filler chapter just for plot building.***

xXx

Walking through the MI-6 building feels like coming home. There's a specific type of aroma. Coffee, paper, slightly overworked electronics and perfume covering the lingering smell of cigarettes.

Perhaps that's me, though...

It's a comforting smell as I see the familiar sight of people hunched over desks, furiously typing or standing with colleagues having in-depth whispered discussions.

There are a few faces I recognise, smile and wave to. Others I don't and get the judgey-eye treatment as their eyes roam over me, assessing me. The whispered comments behind your back kind of comments. That's always fun when you know they're talking about you but don't say anything straight to your face.

Backstabbing bitches.

In fact, there are more faces I don't recognise than I do, which leaves an unusually bitter taste in my mouth.

Le Carré has definitely left his mark and probably sacked over half of the staff I used to work with, or they've been "re-assigned".

We continued walking through the building, heading towards the director general's office.

Wow...

And that's not a good 'wow' either.

Le Carré's put his stamp on the place for sure. It looks like a fancy corporate building with no life, with drab black-and-white landscape photos lining the corridor walls.

The only life in here is the fucking ferns sat in pots everywhere.

What the fuck's he doing?

Trying to bring basic training in the woods into the office or something?

I'm waiting for some fucker with a paintball gun to burst out from a bush and shoot me in the tit.

And yes, it fucking hurts when that happens.

The classic management suggestion of let's do a social event and wear no body armour, my ass, bullshit, team building, bollocks...

I huff.

I need a ciggie already, and I've only just finished one outside quickly. That nicotine buzz is wearing off quickly. Too quickly for today's bullshit.

"Good morning, sir," Le Carré says in his smarmy, grovelling tone as he walks into Cane's office with Jonathan and me following behind.

At least chivalry isn't dead for some, as Jonathan was gentlemanly enough to hold the door open for me as Le Carré basically let it go in my face.

Prick.

"Ah, Bow. It's good to see you. You look..." Cane pauses as he looks me over and shakes my hand gently.

Kinda sweet, actually. Like meeting an old family friend who knew you from childhood but wasn't close enough to hug you kind of family friend.

"Shit, I think you mean to say, sir."

Cane chuckles as Le Carré tuts disapprovingly, rolling his eyes, and Jonathan smirks at me.

I saw that pretty soldier boy...

At least I can still amuse some people.

"Well... I'm glad you've decided to come back..." Cane says as he half smiles and lets go of my hand. I'm half expecting him to wipe his hand on his trouser leg or Purell the shit out of it once he sits. But he doesn't... shockingly.