"Flower, sir? Only 'alf a pound sir!"
Over and over again, he repeated this, waiting for the right man to show up for the drop. At the same time, he was improving his best cockney accent. He'd raised his pitch to match an adolescent and darkened under his eyes to look a bit lost, also hunching his shoulders and widening his eyes to look younger. All for one simple exchange.
Finally, after what seemed like hours of fruitless begging, the American showed up.
"Aren't you a sweet little boy," he said, almost warmly. He ruffled Alex's bedraggled hair and handed him a few paper notes. "I'll take them all."
Acting astonished and grateful, Alex handed him the entire bucket and accepted the "bills". "Thank you, sir!" He cried, and dashed off into a nearby alleyway. Conveniently, this alley led to another which led to the back entrance for the secondary location of MI6, where Mrs. Jones waited with some other operatives. Once safe, he pulled off the dark wig and shed the overlarge clothing. "He took it. Here's the information."
Mrs. Jones closely examined the paper Alex had received from the foreigner. "Another job well done, Alex. You're free to leave, and make sure no one sees you."
Alex Rider didn't dignify that with a response, choosing to simply slip away into the shadows of another evening in London.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Author's note: Just something that floated through my head. Let me know if there's any mistakes, alright?