“Of all the cafés in Singapore you say this is your favorite? There are thousands!” exclaimed the Englishman as he pulled a cigarette to his mouth. He quickly spat it out on the table and began running his napkin over his tongue – he’d put the cigarette in the wrong way.

“Not the first time I’ve done that,” he chimed flatly, replacing the cigarette with a wry smile. “Happens to the best of us.”

“It doesn’t,” quipped the broad-shouldered Russian sitting across from him. “Now let’s get to business.”

“Certainly, chap, but know that it’s an English tradition to show a little decorum,” he scoffed. “even when the conversation is this bloody. Excuse me, can we get some tea?” he waved at the tiny Singaporean waitress. She darted over.

“No tea!” shouted the Russian, slamming his fist into the table.
“Well I’ll say, if you needed the codes this urgently-”

Suddenly, the waitress grabbed the Englishman by the neck and pulled a knife to his throat.

“Your favorite café, huh? The service is atrocious,” he rasped.