Mr. Percey regarded the woman for a long moment, then casually sat down beside her and folded his legs one over the other.  He set down the martini glass on the small table beside him and drew a small humidor that, upon opening, contained a number of custom cigarettes.  He took one out, tapped it against the silver lid, and placed it upon his bottom lip.  Then Percey searched through his pockets and found a lighter, but just before he lit the cigarette, he offered one to the lady.<br/><br/>Whether or not she ascented, he lit up (and lit hers if she agreed) and took a long drag and accompanied it with a sip of vermouth.<br/><br/>"Such a pejorative term that," Percey said disdainfully.   "From my understanding, madame, MI6 considers you a risk after what happened in Bermuda."  He then stood up, his hands in his pockets, the cigarette hanging off of his lips.   "Burning you doesn't seem to deter you at any rate."<br/><br/>"My apologies, Ms. Morris, but I must insist that you accompany me to the hotel.  Our flight departs tomorrow morning."