Bond sat alone in a small, quaint bar named Bar Iruka, his thoughts focused entirely on the Midori in his icy glass and replaying his earlier conversation with Tanahashi. The weathered oaken door at the entrance to the bar creaked open to reveal the notorious "Belarusian Bear", Natalia Arlovskaya. "Cosmopolitan, stirred not shaken." Arlovskaya barked at the poor bartender who would have to figuratively bend over backwards to the every whim of the criminal mastermind. "Dobra vice, Mr. Bond."
"Hello, Natalia."
"You know, I never thought I'd get you trapped like this, but you Englishmen are stupid." Bond felt a soft pair of hands grab his temples. He rose and gave the owner a quick left jab. This, he thought to himself, must be the new recruit I've heard about. A back and forth glut of punches followed before Tanahashi emerged from the shadows and smashed his glass- still partially full with vodka- over the head of Patel. "Run." he said to Bond.
***
Bond lay on the lumpy bed of his inner-city hotel, his tie and jacket strewn haphazardly onto the beige, carpeted floor. He had made a note of Q's promised pleasantry and opened the envelope, which- in very careful looping cursive- read; Agent 007, From Q. He carefully removed the letter from its package like one would the lacy gloves of a burlesque dancer and read it aloud to himself.
"Dear Agent 007,
By now it may be apparent, but, being me, I still feel the need to write to you. I no longer feel like this 'Q' character society asks me to fulfil. I'm a female in my soul, James. Just call me 'L'- short for Lexi.
Yours sincerely,
L" Bond wiped a singular tear from his sapphire-blue right eye and lay down on his uncomfortable, hostel-esque bed for a night's sleep that he, for one, considered well-earned.
