Madam Lutece. [ intoned with mock scandal. However she means fit, she clearly got a good look at him waltzing over half-dressed. If his cheeks pink slightly, it's only fair — Rosalind's a pretty woman far more dressed than he is, presently, and thinking he's some kind of prozzer. ] I promise I only pretended. Haven't resorted to selling myself just yet.

[ It's not the sort of thing he'd be comfortable with, given the history of Dean's shitheads calling him rentboy and the like. He isn't even entirely convinced by the need for honeypot missions at Kingsman, but that's a problem for later. Best not to dwell on it.

With a wink, he sets his bright hat aside to slip into the water, resurfacing pleasantly soaked, light brown hair sticking to his forehead. Then, with a bit of soldier boy politeness — ] Former Royal Marine. Plus gymnastics, freerunning, and troublemaking before that.