Arthur gave him a meaningful glance: "Looks like you're living more comfortably at Scotland Yard than I imagined."
Ledley quickly shook his head with an apologetic smile: "I wouldn't dare! Sir, you know, us intelligence workers are like mudskippers in the water, always trying not to be scooped up and made into soup. These past few years at Five, I've been working really hard, how can it compare to your glory days in Russia?"
Arthur squinted slightly as he listened: "Glory? Ledley, you think too highly of me. Haven't you read The Times? I'm currently stuck in the muddy Caucasus, unable to get out."
Ledley wisely closed his mouth immediately, replacing it with a diligent smile. Meanwhile, he glanced at the cigar nearly extinguished between Arthur's fingers, and naturally pulled out a silver matchbox, striking a match to politely offer Arthur a relight.
Arthur watched Ledley, like a tiger eyeing a nimble fox.
