<hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Game Master</strong></span></span></div><hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://prohairstylist.com.au/wp-content/gallery/american-crew-winners-face-off-2011/model-winner_hair-machine-carlo-ceravolo.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Mr. M<br/><strong>City | Date | Time:</strong>Madrid, Spain | August 7, 2017 | Around Noon<br/><strong>Tagging | Mentioning:</strong>Colette Delcroix<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Mysterious mysteries.<br/><hr/>He seemed receptive to the gesture of communication that she gave him, but it wasn't something that he mimicked. “I'm afraid that I'm not here to discuss details about my employer, Colette. If they are interested in your knowing more about them, I am certain that they will approach you to discuss that.”<br/><br/>“As for my name, I'm also afraid that due to the nature of my business that I can't give that away to you either. However, instead of darling you can call me M. And no, that isn't short of mystery.” He offered her with the smallest of little smiles – if he was some sort of agent, he was clearly not as hard nosed as the average one tended to be. “It's terribly rude, I know, but it's also the way of things in this age.”<br/><br/>M turned his head to a passing waitress and held up his hand for her, he smiled and slowly turned to look at her through those heavily tinted shades, but it was clear that his look lingered on Colette for every second they could before his attention was forced to the product of his flag down. “I'll take a tea. Earl Grey, hot, please.” He got a quick nod from the woman who jotted it down and continued on her way. It was his way of giving Colette a little bit of what she asked for, as much as he could anyway. “There's always time, even on a busy schedule like my own, for a cup of tea.” He said, turning his attention back to her, fully.<br/><br/>“That said, I'm sure understand the time frame of business.” His thin lips curled into the smallest, most knowing smile. “So do forgive me if I need to get to the details somewhat quickly.”<br/><br/>“My employer would like you to make a delivery,” M's eyes and head shifted, ever so slightly for her to follow, towards the briefcase still clutched in his hand. “A delivery that requires both a fair amount of discretion and haste. You would, of course, be well compensated for your time.”<br/><br/>The young woman returned with his tea, setting the little plate and cup down before him. With a firm nod in her direction M reached for his cup with his free hand and repeated her little saulte before sipping lightly from its edge. “Interested?”<br/><br/><hr/><div align="center"><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><strong>Game Master</strong></span></span></div><hr/>