Bond sat on the chair, facing M’s desk.
The pink, top secret file sat open in front of them and M stared at it through his thick glasses, cigar clamped to the side of his mouth.
The stress of the last few weeks and this particular assignment was really showing on the old man’s face, under his eyes were dark half moons, crisscrossed with lines, there was before unseen stubble on his chin ad his entire body was hunched over, the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Bond, on the other hand, sat relaxed, lent backwards with his legs crossed, regarding the paper with a detached air. He too was smoking, a camel. The smoke mixed above the two men.
“It’s the blood Russians again” Said M “every time we get hold of one of them, another pops up somewhere else, it’s like those dolls they have, one inside another inside another…” He faulted to a halt and look at 007
“Don’t get me wrong Bond, you did a bloody good job in the last case, it is just we need you to do it again, but better and this time, please try and ignore the girls. I know how tempting those Russian woman are, all legs and kinky smiles but one of these days they are going to get you into trouble. I need you fit and healthy and ready to serve our majesty. The last thing I need is you saddled with a little baby or getting the clap, is that what you want, to be a father, or worse?”
He looked into Bonds cold blue eyes, the eyes many female Russian agents had fallen for.
Bond stared back and with no hint of emotion, “I would prefer not to.”