He sat in the yellow, New York styled taxi, tapping his black Jeffery-West Leather Flashman Brogues, watching Langley as he passed by. The green in the trees fading through autumns bitter approach and the light slowly dimming into a black night. He couldn't help but sit in his upright position, keeping his expression smooth and casual as always and not showing a hint of what he could be thinking. He lent up to reach to his back pocket to take his wallet out in order to get ready to pay the taxi driver when they pulled up outside of the Pentagon City Mall. He saw the familiar surroundings and prepared to get out.
''Here we are sir'' The thick and low American accent of the driver caught Townsends attention if the slowing, then eventually, the stop of the car didn't.
''Thank you'' Townsend handed the money to the driver as he pushed himself out of the seat as his feet touched the concrete floor and he stood upright. He put his hands in his pockets, giving a nod goodbye to the taxi diver before walking up the steps to the building.
The building, like any other in the area, was made out of fine brick with a polished-looking finish that made it look professional and smart. He walked into the Roslyn Metro Station, moving towards the men's room then into the far stall. He put his palm to the far brick wall of the stall that ended the pattern of repeated stalls as heat began to grow warm beneath his hand. The floor began to shake before suddenly everything around him had formed into four walls of an elevator. Throughout this however, Townsend still kept his default nonchalant face, a face that told he had done this routine many times before.
This was because it was, in fact, a regular routine. Go into the same stall, press the palms wall, travel in the elevator giving his retinal images then finally arrive, moving to walk out on the familiar black granite and white marble tiles floor of the CIA HQ.
Townsend walked the same route he always took when visiting headquarters. Up three floors then left at the interns office and right at the café to arrive at a well known office and knocking on the door before opening it to stand in the doorway.
''Oh great... He's arrived. If it isn't my favourite British dude...''