Marcus sat there, just waiting. He was in one of the many overly stylised and even more overly priced hotels in London. Lots of wood. Lots of exposed brick. He gazed out of the window, sipping a cool pint in the crowded and extremely hot bar. Content.
After a few minutes, he drew up the sleeve of his well fitted suit jacket and checked his watch. 5:58pm. She’d almost certainly arrive in the next 60 seconds. If his interactions with her over the phone were anything to go by, she was not the type to be late.
Right on cue, in walked a woman that put the others present at the bar to shame. Her height was about the only average thing about her. The clothes she wore, which included a dark blazer, were clearly chosen with the intention of reducing the impact of her striking appearance. Marcus took a mental note of that as he rose to greet her.
“Miss. Moore, lovely to finally meet you.” He extended his hand, ready for her approach. Nice and professional.