It was an unusually sunny morning in the city of London. Although, it was still March, so no warmth accompanied the cloudless sunny skies. Despite the pleasant weather, people carried on with their daily routines.

Nine was one of the few people who deviated from their usual routine. At 6:30 that morning, she was woken by a text alert from her phone. She hated mornings with a passion. Today was no exception.

7:30. East Trafalgar Square. Check bag. -Q

Needless to say, she found she disliked Q more and more every day. Still, she managed to drag herself out of bed, toast bread and make tea without any broken mugs or second degree burns.

Q must have thought he was being funny, giving her less than an hour to get ready and get into London. Most other girls she knew would have had a heart attack, but, Nine didn't need very long to get ready in the mornings. She spent less than fifteen minutes in the shower, and when she got out she half dried her hair and put it up into its usual plait. She never wore makeup, and that shaved an unnecessary fifteen minutes off getting ready. Personally, she cared little for fashion or appearance, as long as she looked presentable and professional.

Due to the weather, she traded her favourite turtleneck and blazer for a light white shirt. She drained her mug of tea, picked up her bag and ate toast on the way. She did have to run for the Tube, although she admitted with a grimace, she needed the exercise. Luckily, there were seats available on the underground train so early in the morning. Her compartment wasn't even half full, and Nine didn't fancy standing for the whole journey into central London. Pulling her satchel into her lap, she pulled her iPhone out of the bottom of the bag and began the annoying task of untangling the earphones plugged into it.

Nine hated bags. They were a nuisance and she hated lugging them around all day. However she had to use this bag to shift papers to and from work. Overall, Nine looked more like a first year college student than an employee. As an afterthought, she remembered Q's text, ("How the hell did he even get my phone number?") rummaged through her bag again and found a starch white envelope labeled "007".

Obviously Bond had just got back to London after his recent stint in Paris.

"Why do these things have to be so complicated? Bond could just go into the office for briefing and equipment! Why does Q need to meet the double 0's outside MI6 to do it?" Nine thought irritably as she slid earphones into her ears and chose a playlist.

Another one of Nine's funny habits. Constantly listening to music. Even at work, though she claimed it helped her concentrate. On a bad note, it just made her all the more easy to startle. Most people would have found her taste in music very odd. Her taste? Every genre under the sun except for rap, country, some pop and anything currently on the charts in general. Ironically, she refused to listen to any music generated artificially on a computer.

As she travelled further into the city, the train compartment began to fill up. Near the end of her journey, Nine stood and insisted that the elderly man who had just boarded take her seat next to his wife who occupied the previously vacant seat beside her. Personally, Nine thought it disgraceful that nobody had bothered to offer up their own seats to the man, who likely had a poor hip, judging by the way he leaned against the handrail provided. The couple thanked Nine repeatedly before she disembarked a few stops earlier than usual in order to make the detour needed to reach Trafalgar Square.

At 7:20, it was clear that the unusually pleasant weather would last the day. Nine was early for the meeting, despite nearly missing the Tube, and so she took a seat on the cool, concrete edge of the eastern fountain and watched the crowds go by. There were swarms of people bustling about the square, all going about their busy lives. On the main road close by, cars and busses tried to push their way through heavy traffic in an orderly fashion. Just a normal day in a normal city.

Figuring she had ten minutes to spare anyway, Nine pulled a sketchbook from her bag and began sketching her surroundings with a short, and slightly chewed, 2b pencil. It was a favoured hobby of hers and, though she was by no means a DaVinci in the making, her drawings were somewhat decent. Some people encouraged her to pursue this as a career, but she was never really too bothered to go through the fuss of putting a whole portfolio together. Not to mention, being an artist wasn't exactly a stable career, and besides, most jobs were in the computer industry these days. Computers had always interested her and Nine enjoyed her job. Drawing was just a way of practicing and honing her observational skills.

Nine had just finished mapping out the proper proportions she needed to incorporate a sense of perspective into her sketch when she felt a hand on her shoulder. In true Nine fashion, the programmer jumped in fright, knocking over her bag and landing (quite unceremoniously) on the cobbled pavement flat on her behind, papers fluttering about, glasses askew.

On her hands and knees, she frantically tried to collect the papers the light breeze kept snatching from her grasp. When she succeeded in shoving her handwritten notes into a scrunched, messy bundle, she looked up to find the charming James Bond offering her a hand up. She refused, wordlessly. Nine was perfectly capable of standing by herself, and refused assistance for such a simple task. Bond merely shrugged and handed Nine her sketchpad and iPhone, which had somehow avoided falling into the cool, clear water of the fountain. As she resumed her seat, he placed himself beside her, leaning forward and placing his hands on his knees.

"You really shouldn't have those things in your ears.", smirked the agent.

Nines voice was tad too high for her liking, "That wasn't funny! You scared me!"

Bond raises an eyebrow, teasing her with his sarcastic remark, "Really now?"

They sat for a few moments in comfortable silence, just watching the world pass by. Bond was much better company when he wasn't being shot at. "Q sent me to deliver this."

Nine handed the agent the marked envelope, which he promptly opened. Upon reading its contents, Bond shook his head and stuffed the torn paper into his jacket pocket. "Absolutely not. I am picking the meeting place this time, I'd rather take a bullet than endure another one of his various lectures."

Nine grimaced. 007 was the agency's most temperamental agent, and the cause of a large fraction of Q's headaches. She did not want to deliver this news to her supervisor, "Q's not going to be happy about that..."

"Not to worry, if you tell him he won't mind at all."

"Why would-"

"Tell Q I'll be in touch." James Bond took his leave without another word, vacating his seat on the concrete fountain and striding across the square, disappearing without a trace.

A/N: I would like to apologise about the lack of activity and this very short chapter (school, lack of motivation, the usual...). I promise, I do have this story planned out and I am determined to finish it. I wanted to publish this chapter before sitting my final exams in June and hope to continue it during the summer. Though this chapter is quite short, my aim here was to give a bit more information about Nine, her personality and habits. I would also like to thank all of this story's followers, reviewers and readers for sticking by Nine and showing interest! You lot are are part of the reason why I write: to entertain! I hope to add more to this soon. (Next Chapter? Gadgets! *winkwinknudgenudge*) Thanks again- X