just like a bond film, he would think him to quip, if circumstances hadn’t demanded a still tongue. they saunter through the length of a parquet hallway waxed to a glossy sheen, each step punctuated by the crisp clop of spick and span oxfords. his own, then followed after by eggsy’s, a rhythmic tandem over and over again. they pass along shows of excess, gaudy drippings of ornate baroque hung high, larger-than-life in their sheer size looming from tall walls reaching up for the skylight. 

it’s reasonable to maintain a precautionary watch on their surroundings here as they foray ever deeper into a veritable bear pit. deception paints innocuousness with decided verve; nothing ever is what it seems to be. the more picturesque the tableau, the more pernicious the odds. that much experience will foretell in unwavering truth. 

they’ve received the invitations ahead of time, a private soiree and auction meant to be attended by an international list of heavy-hitting financiers from high society’s netherworld. weaseling in was easy enough to do when they went under the aliases of mouthpieces for a clandestine buyer. one can easily reason with the high degree of discretion practiced. no real names, no real lives; only real currency in unmarked bills. 

          never one for moments apropos to intention, as he comes to expect from these sporadic little nuances of behaviour that eggsy was prone to exhibiting. the journey to palace grounds necessitates a good amount of time from their prior engagements of before and while weariness has settled in a deep weight in his limbs, he doesn’t think to act on abating it. duty and dignity above all else, comfort be damned. sleeping on concrete with only a threadbare excuse of a blanket underneath to keep skin from ground has willed that mantra into etched permanence. his forbearance is commendable, so much so that despite the antics, harry remains planted in his seat on the upholstered bench, lips merely pursing in a thin line to indicate any modicum of response.