"Major Potter?"

"Who's asking?"

"Hamish Mycroft." The Scot said as he sat on the stool beside the black-haired, green-eyed man. "Though I'm just a messenger. I represent an organization whose aims may interest you."

"An organization? Bloody Hell, mate, I'm just on leave."

"Aye, we know, Major, we also know it wasn't voluntary. There's also the little fact we know where you attended school… Or at least I do."

"Damn. You're a squib?"

"Aye."

"Of course you bloody are." Potter sighed as he tossed back the shot in front of him. "Doesn't quite bite like firewhisky, does it?"

"It's Irish. What'd you expect from Jameson's swill?"

"True." Potter laughed gruffly. "So why do you want me?"

"A Royal Marines Major turned SBS, you tell me," the man smirked as Potter snorted. "I've been told that you are resourceful, intelligent, and you obviously have… Certain connections my agency would be quite interested in obtaining. Your abilities give you an edge that no one else in my organization have access to."

"I'm still in, mate, and I'm an officer at that. Gettin' out isn't going to be easy."

"We have enough connections that we can ensure that you're released from duty smoothly."

"Right… Now why do you need me?"

"My organization is in need of a man with your skillset."

"You sure you don't just need a mole?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Potter's eyes met the Scot's. "The Ministry?"

"It's not up to me."

"Right. You understand I left that life behind me years ago, don't you?" He waved to the barkeep, who set up another shot. Potter drained it in one go without so much as a twitch.

"Yes, I do. But that's not what I'm asking."

"You certainly make it sound that way."

"My apologies. I am the only one in my organization who knows of your abilities."

"Because you're a squib."

"Aye."

"Your parents?"

"And my sister."

"Who's your sister?"

"Doesn't matter, you didn't know her. She died in his first campaign. She'd have actually been the same age as your parents, maybe a few years younger, had she not been killed in a raid at Hogsmeade."

"I'm sorry."

"You of all people shouldn't be sorry, Potter. You're the one who killed that son of a bitch. You avenged her, and for that, I thank you. Now, what do you say?"

"I say if you don't have a drink with me then I'm walking out of here, here and now, and you'll never find me again."

"We have your address on file."

"I can make you forget it the second you read it."

"Aye, I believe it. I've heard of the Fidelius charm. Though, last I heard, you need a person to keep your secret."

"I have people to do that."

"Who? Mister and Missus Ronald Weasley? The two you haven't spoken a word to since you joined the Marines?"

"They moved to Australia."

"To find her parents that she obliviated… Got to hand it to the girl, she would have made a fine addition to our organization."

"Your organization. I haven't decided yet."

"My organization, indeed." He nodded decisively and went to speak again. "Alright, Major, I do believe I'll have that drink with you now. On me. Bartender? What's the best scotch you have?"

"Hm... tough one, that. I've got a pretty good '97 Dalmore, a Bourbon that the owner bloody raves about – but it's an American, ain't for me. Oh, I've got an '85 Aberlour too."

"I'll take two of the Aberlour, one for me and one for my friend here." The bartender nodded once, turning around and plucking a bottle from the top shelf as Potter raised his eyebrow at the Scot.

"You have good taste, Mr. Mycroft, but expensive." Mycroft chuckled as a pair of tumblers clinked down on the counter.

"Major, we both know that you, of all people, can certainly afford a single glass of scotch. Even without your current salary."

"You're right. I could buy the bloody distillery ten times over if I wanted to without even making a dent in my finances, but I'm not interested."

"Of course. Now, to business? My organization, should you pass our entrance exam and training - without magic, that is, will pay you three times your current salary."

"I think we just talked about that, money's not an issue."

"No, I don't suppose it is."

"Hm. How long's the training period?"

"Depends. It's 'til last man standing."

"My kind of deal."

"I thought it might." The Scotsman smirked as the barkeep placed the tumblers on the bar and filled them. "What are we drinking to?"

"Opportunities, it seems." Potter smirked as he touched his glass to the Scot's. "Cheers."

"Cheers," Mycroft smirked as the two sipped at the whisky. When the glasses were drained and replaced on the bar, the Scot spoke again. "Very good. In three days, you'll find me at this location." The Scot pulled a business card from his suit jacket and placed it on the bar. "Sunday, twelve sharp."

"I'll be there." He nodded as he picked up the business card. "Hm. Kingsman? Judging by that posh suit of yours, I'd bet they're your tailor, yes?"

"I work for them."

"I can't say I'm too interested in being a tailor, Mycroft. But… But I am in need of a new suit."

"Aye, you've put on twenty pounds of muscle since you joined up."

"Don't I know it?" Harry smirked as he turned to the Scot.

"People would envy that."

"Maybe, but I keep fit in other ways too."

"Free running, you mean?"

"I picked it up from a yank. Running free around the city is more appealing than doing flips in a gym or spinning around a bar."

"Right. Well then, Major, I'll leave you to your swill. I'll see you in three days."

"Cheers, mate."

"Major Potter, welcome to Kingsman." The Scot said as Potter stepped into the shop - glancing between the posh suits before he nodded at the Scot reclining on a nearby sofa.

"Mycroft. This is a nice place."

"It's on Savile Row, lad." Mycroft said as he stood up, shaking Potter's hand.

"I know. I've lost a pretty pound here once or twice across the street."

"Aye." He nodded as he gestured for Harry to follow him. "Well, today we won't be fitting you. Get through training and we'll see."

"Sounds good to me. What happens to the people who fail?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Ah, that kind of deal then." Potter said as the two men entered fitting room one. "Who's this sponsored by? Scotland Yard? MI6? The Queen?"

"None of the above, Major. We are an independent intelligency agency. Once we were sanctioned by the Crown, but now? Now we're completely separate from the government. From all governments. The Queen believes our organization was dissolved and all activities halted." The Scot smirked as he and Harry looked into the mirror. "That is, quite obviously, to those in the know, not the case. Major Potter, should you wish to accept – to be one of those in the know – this is an opportunity for you to become an agent. A Kingsman Agent."

"Hm. You think that I'm bloody spy material?" Potter snorted as the Scot placed his hand on the mirror.

"No. I think you'll be one of the best. Since 1849, Kingsman Tailors have clothed the world's richest, most powerful men. You better than anyone know the wars that ravaged Europe back in those days… By 1919, a good chunk of the elites had lost their heirs to the thresher we call the Great War. Unfortunately, that meant a lot of gold was going to go uninherited."

"And they couldn't have that."

"Cheeky bugger. Kingsman's founders realized they could use that money as well as their influence for the greater good of all mankind."

"Für das Größere Wohl."

"Grindelwald… Hm, yes, he was rather fond of that saying. Rest assured, Major, I'm aware of his atrocities. Kingsman does not seek to take control over the world, nor do we seek to usurp her rightful governments. In fact, because we are an independent agency, we can work above the politics and bureaucracy that plague contemporary intelligence organizations. We are not MI6, we are not the CIA, and we are certainly not the KGB, nor are we the FSB. We are Kingsman. We operate independently, internationally, and at the highest level of discretion. We seek to uphold peace, we are sworn to shield life. Without Kingsman, the world would have crumbled a long time ago."

"Alright… You've got my attention."

"I thought I might have. You will also be the first of our organization with the gift of magic."

"Definitely the only one to kill a Dark Lord."

"Aye, you do have that going for you."

"How do posts open up?"

"Retirement or death. But once a Kingsman…"

"You belong to the Kingsman."

"Aye… Come now, we're nearly at the bottom."

"Already?"

"Already. We're below the Underground at this level."

"I figured that much." Potter said as he folded his arms over his chest as the tube came into view. "A mail canister?"

"Hyperloop, but it's basically the same principle." Mycroft said, tapping a clipboard as the doors swung open. "Please, sit."

"Right." Potter said as he sat across from the Scot in the canister.

"Tell me about your history, Potter." Mycroft asked as the canister rocketed away from the shop.

"What do you know?"

"You went to primary school in Ashford but lived in Little Whinging for the first years of your life. Allegedly you lived with your aunt and uncle but we haven't been able to locate them yet to confirm."

"Hm." He didn't comment on the irony that a spy agency couldn't find two magic-hating muggles but chalked it up to the Order being involved in their disappearance.

"Your cousin, Dudley, lives in Wales with his girlfriend and their child. He has no idea where his parents are. In fact, other than the fact that they jumped on a plane one day, he hasn't heard from them since."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish then."

"They raised you, then?"

"I lived in their house but they didn't raise me. But I am glad to hear Dudley's doing well."

"As well as he can on a secondary education."

"I don't even have that. I kept up with what I could at Hogwarts but there was always so much more to do."

"You managed to become an officer."

"I learned enough, still don't have a degree."

"Are you interested in a post-secondary education, Major? We can assist with that."

"Will I even need a degree with this gig?"

"No."

"I didn't think so."

"You could go for a mastery in the magical world."

"I already have my mastery in charms. I am also recognized as the world's leading expert in Defense Against the Dark Arts, came with a shiny Order of Merlin, first class."

"Oh? From killing Voldemort?"

"Aye."

"I see. And the charms mastery?"

"Was something I did on my own."

"Is Flitwick still teaching then?"

"Aye, and he's Deputy Head. I'm sure you heard about when Dumbledore died in '97."

"I did. Old McGonagall took his place then?"

"She did. Finally hired a new transfiguration professor last year."

"Who?"

"Some Welshman I'd never met before. I forgot his name but he knows his stuff."

"Ah. If I may ask a more personal question?"

"Might as bloody well while you're at it."

"With your credentials and knowledge, why didn't you join the Auror Corps?"

"Thought about it but I've already killed one dark lord, why would I want to spend my life chasing more?"

"So instead you joined the Marines."

"Taking down dark lords and serving my country aren't that different. I've been struggling with Dark Lords for decades and some change already, Mycroft."

"Merlin, that's my code name. It's what you'll be refering to me as from now on when we aren't undercover. But I believe you. I was Navy, myself. My sister went to Hogwarts and I joined up."

"A sailor, eh? Good to know."

"Aye. I was aboard the HMS Argyll."

"A good ship. How'd you get involved with the Kingsman?"

"Needless to say it's largely classified. What I can tell you, though, was that there was an opening for an agent's slot. What I shouldn't tell you is that I was one of the final two for Galahad. What is certainly classified is that during training, the last Merlin was killed in an accident. Harry became Galahad and I, Merlin."

"That must have pissed you off."

"On the contrary. They put us in seperate rooms and gave us both a choice: Merlin or Galahad. At the time, we were both equally good with computers. Now, if we had both picked Galahad, then we would have carried on with our little competition none the wiser but since I chose Merlin, we were done then and there. Besides, I get paid almost as well as an Agent without having to risk my neck time and again."

"Well, well, you have it made, don't you?" Potter smirked as Merlin laughed heartily.

"Aye, you could say that."

"What name am I competing for?"

"Gawain. He was one of the few who actually retired."

"He have a wife? Kids?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Of course not. We're going to be the first ones there, aren't we?"

"Of course. Galahad's notorious for being late but I always have to be early. I'm in charge of the trainees. Just because you're my candidate doesn't mean I'll go easy on you, Major."

"I'd expect no less."

"Indeed. My job is to weed down the pool of candidates until there's only one left. Speaking of, you're not likely be the youngest."

"Let me guess, idiots fresh from college who were pacified with silver spoons and have never worked a day in their lives?"

"And you're richer than all of them."

"I don't flaunt it. If I was born holding a silver spoon then the Dursleys forced me to use it as a bloody trowel."

"True… But yes. There aren't likely to be any others with a military background, but, if there are, they'll be low level officers from the army. You'd outrank them."

"If we weren't all equally worthless here."

"Exactly. Most of the other applicants will have attended Oxford, Cambridge, or other prestigious institutes. They're likely to have studied medicine or law."

"I learned all the anatomy I needed to know in the Commandos, especially with the SBS."

"Aye, I'm sure. Then there was O'Hara."

"Yeah. Him. The bastard hated me because I had the gall to discipline him in front of his squad."

"It was your Company. Must have been serious if it caught your attention."

"Aye, it was. Then again, O'Hara wasn't exactly the brightest bulb."

"Now he'll never be."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish."

"Aye… Aye indeed." Merlin chuckled as he pushed his glasses further up his nose, his smirk replaced with a completely serious mask as their eyes met. "You're going to have it rough, Major."

"I know." Potter said, his arms crossed over his chest. "But I didn't make it through the Boat Service training just for show. You want an agent? I'll be the best damned Agent you'll ever have."

"I'm sure you will. Bloody Hell, I'd give you my title if I could."

"A magician code named Merlin? Fitting."

"Aye. Unfortunately, you'll have to settle for the green knight. We'll be getting there soon. Better get ready."

"I'm surprised you aren't looking at that like everyone does."

"Once you've seen a herd of Unicorns in the wild or Hogwarts from the Black Loch, not much can surprise you. But it is a rather impressive plane collection. Oh, and the cars are nice too. Think I'll be able to get one of the Astons?"

"You could bloody well buy an Aston with your finances."

"Yeah but it wouldn't be bulletproof, now would it?"

"Hn. Right this way." Merlin chuckled, waving Harry back toward the hyperloop and down a hall to one side. After a few more turns, he pulled open a door and waved for Harry to step inside. "Congratulations, you're the first one here, as expected."

"Wonderful. Looks a bit more comfortable than the barracks."

"Then you'll be right at home."

"It's looking that way." Potter said as he stepped to the first bed on the right, closest to the door, and dropped his backpack on the floor in front of it.

"Remember, you aren't to speak about who selected you to any of the other candidates though you may speak about your past."

"I'm bound by the ISS, Merlin."

"Anything not pertaining to that then."

"Private boarding school in Scotland. Got it."

"Indeed. Go ahead, settle in, take a piss, do whatever you want as long as you don't lie down. You know rack protocol."

"Better than anyone in this room."

"Oi!"

"Don't take it personally, Merlin." Potter grinned. "Now, you better get out there before the other candidates show up or you'll be the one violating your own rule."

"You're going to be a pain in my arse, aren't you?"

"Ask professor McGonagall about that."

"Bloody Hell." Merlin growled as he stomped out of the room. Harry chuckled as he sat down in one of the few chairs in the corner and settled in to wait for the others to join him.

"Good Lord, you're just a kid!"

"Not exactly." Potter said as he opened his eyes, looking up at the person who'd entered the room.

"I didn't realize they were recruiting from campuses. I thought they at least waited for kids to graduate nowadays."

"I didn't go to college. Major Potter, Royal Marines. How do you do?" Potter asked as he stood up with his hand outstretched. The man gawked briefly before taking Harry's hand, shaking it limply.

"Hodges, Dr. Nigel Hodges."

"I didn't think they recruited Doctors, too valuable and all that."

"I'm not a medical Doctor, I received my PhD from Oxford."

"Ah." Potter said as he sat back down.

"Well I'll be damned." A new voice came from the door. "Nigel freaking Hodges. How've you been, you mug?" Another man with a beige blazer and black slacks grinned as he slapped Hodges on the back. "Oh, hullo. Nice to meet you. Jason Owens."

"Harry Potter. Good to make your acquaintance. I take it you two know each other?"

"Went to Secondary together. Bloody Hell, it's been years mate. Ever get into Oxford?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. How was Cambridge?"

"Seeing as they allowed me to stay after I'd finished my undergraduate, I'd say it went pretty well. Did you ever-" Harry tuned out the conversation as the two old buddies started with the small talk.

"Good afternoon." Came a fourth voice from the door. Harry looked up as a woman around his age entered the room. "How do you do?"

"Well, very well." Nigel said as he held his hand out to shake hers. She took and shook it, then turned to Jason who repeated the process.

"And how are you?" Jason asked.

"I'm well, thank you. Who's that in the corner?"

"Harry Potter." Harry said as he stood up, his arms folded over his chest as he met the girl's eyes. Like the other two, there wasn't even a hint of recognition of his name. "And you are?"

"Sophia Pride."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong," Jason said, "but is that a bit of Gloucester I hear?"

"I'm afraid not. I was born and raised in London. I stayed in London for my education to, I've just recently achieved my master's at Imperial College."

"Quite impressive for a woman your age," Nigel said.

"Thank you. And what's your story?" She asked, looking directly at Harry.

"Ah, nothing too exciting. Went to a boarding school in the Highlands and joined up with the Marines as soon as I graduated." Her eyebrow arched as she looked the Major over.

"Rather underdressed for a Marine, aren't you?"

"I'm afraid this isn't the occasion for my blues and my fatigues would make me stand out in this lot," Harry smiled as Sophie nodded.

"Understandable. Are you a lieutenant, then?"

"No, I'm a Major."

"So young?"

"So some say." Harry shrugged as he joined the group.

"Hm, alright then. So how long have you lot been here?"

"Not long." Harry said as the other two turned to look at each other.

"I came in just a few minutes ago, and this wanker," Nigel tilted his head at Jason, "was right on my heels. He'd only been here a minute or two when you came in."

"Ah, alright then. So you're a Marine," she looked at me before turning back to the other two, "but how about you lot?"

"Well, you see-"

"Sorry, am I interrupting something?"

"No, not at all." Harry said as another man in a suit strolled into the room. "How do you do?"

"Pretty well, thank you. Yourself?"

"Pretty well, thank you." Harry parroted back as he held out his hand again. "Harry Potter."

"Whittaker, Jared Whittaker. Nice to meet you, mate."

"Is this supposed to be a men's party?" Another voice called from the door. Harry glanced over and noted the scowling, pinched-faced woman walking into the room.

"I certainly hope not," Sophia chuckled. "If it is, then that would connotate some rather… unflattering implications for us."

"I suppose it would. Autumn Ebert. And you are?"

"Sophia Pride. Pleasure."

"I'm sure. You?"

"Jared Whittaker."

"Hm. You?"

"Hodges. Dr. Nigel Hodges."

"Hm."

"Owens, Jason Owens."

"Hm." She sniffed as she turned to Harry. "And you?"

"Potter."

"Got a first name?"

"Of course."

"Hm. And what do you do?"

"I'm a Major." Harry smirked as she blinked and then narrowed her eyes.

"You're military?"

"Until I was offered a position here. I assume my contract's been terminated now."

"Branch?"

"Royal Marines."

"Interesting…" She said as she held her hand out. I took it, shaking it as firmly as she shook mine. "I'll have to keep my eye on you, Major."

"Harry."

"Harry." She smirked as Harry nodded, glancing over at Whittaker, whose eyes narrowed at the black widow in the room.

"Fall in." Merlin said as he entered the room on the heels of the last applicant to arrive. There were ten of us, four women and six men. "Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Merlin. You are about to embark on what is probably the most dangerous job interview in the world. One of you, and only one of you, will become the next [Gawain]. Can anybody tell me, what this is?" Nine hands shot into the air, all except for mine. I knew exactly what it was, but I wasn't up to proving myself quite yet. "Yes?"

"[That's a] body bag, sir."

"Correct. [Autumn], is it?"

"Yessir."

"Good. In a moment, you will each collect a body bag. You will write your name on that body bag. You will write the details of your next of kin on that bag. This represents your acknowledgements of the risks that you're about to face as well as your agreement to strict confidentiality. Which, incidentally, if you break will result in you and your next of kin being… In that bag. Is that understood? Excellent. Fall out." Merlin said as he turned his back to us and left the room. [1]

"Well, that was suitably intense," Whittaker said as he moved to his rack.

"It's an army technique." One of the candidates who stepped in later, Wright, Harry thought, said almost in annoyance.

"Maybe thirty years ago." Harry said as he stripped off his shirt. "Not any more."

"And how would you know?"

"He's a Major in the Marines, wouldn't shut the Hell up about it." Nigel grunted.

"Bloody Hell, we have an officer in our midst?" Another of the late arrivals scoffed.

"Yeah, yeah, there's an officer here. Great. Get over it. My question is are we all staying here?" Abigail Bourne (another late arrival) asked, glancing at the latrine dubiously.

"If you want some privacy, you probably shouldn't have accepted this opportunity." A snobbish, pug-faced man sniffed. "I don't see a door in here for the women."

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

"Terrance Hanks, at your service."

"I'm sure. And you, Major?" She asked, turning to Harry.

"Harry, please. I get enough of being called Major at work." He smirked as they shook hands, lingering a bit too long before they let go of one another.

"Then please, call me Abi. I gather you're used to communal living then?"

"I've had experience with it, yes." Harry said as Autumn drifted over with Jared. "Best get changed and get some shut eye. I don't think they're going to take it easy on us tomorrow just because it's our first day."

"No, I doubt they will. When do you think lights out is?" Whittaker asked thoughtfully.

"Around ten if I were to guess." Harry said as he pulled on the Pajama bottoms Kingsman had so thoughtfully given each of them.

"They want us in uniform around the clock, then?"

"They want us to at least dress uniformly around the clock. I'm sure that there will be times for you to wear your own clothes but that won't be for a long while, Whittaker."

"Great. Well, at least the clothes look comfortable."

"I'd have expected nothing else from an intelligence agency who started as a tailor." Abi smirked. Harry just chuckled lightly.

"Right. Well, I'm off to bed. I'll see you lot in the morning."

"So soon, Major?" Nigel chuffed.

"When they wake us up at four for a forced ruck, I don't want to hear you complaining, Hodges." Harry said as he walked over to the sinks with his toothbrush and paste in hand.

"You think they'd do that?"

"I'd be surprised if they didn't." Whittaker grunted as he changed too. "You heard what Merlin said."

"We're going to have to treat this like basic training." Harry said as he wet his toothbrush. "They're going to break you down into what they want you to be. If you don't? They'll send you on your merry way. Good luck, lads and ladies, we're going to need it."

Harry didn't know what time it was when he felt the water rise over his bed; he just knew things had changed for the worse. He shot up, hitting his light switch as he scrambled out of the bed – making his way for the door. The rest of the group was already yelling and screaming, then Abi called out something about loo snorkels and the rest of the squad ran or swam like Hell for the showers. The Water hadn't even made it halfway over the door when Harry tried shoving it open, only to find it was locked.

Scowling and swearing, Harry saw that Sophia hadn't moved with the rest of the team. She was too busy thrashing and floundering around in the water to do anything else. Harry grabbed her arm, pulling her along behind him as the water finally rose above his neck - then he turned around, meeting her panicked eyes and giving her what he assumed was a comforting smile.

"Deep breath, luv! This is about to get ugly." He said and then sucked in as deep a breath as he could. He easily could have cast a breathing charm but Merlin had specifically said this had to be done without Magic. Sophia nodded, taking in a breath and diving in with Harry. He swam beside Abi, who passed him a showerhead she had jammed into the loo. He looked at it and then at her questioningly. The redhead rolled her eyes and put the tube in her mouth, sucking in a lungful of air. Harry understood instantly.

Abi handed him the tube once again and Harry took a breath in before handing the tube off to Sophia. He turned around, looking for some way out of this Hellhole before he noticed something strange.

The mirror was two-way glass.

He hadn't seen a lot of it, but he knew just enough to tell that it was thin. Thin enough it could be broken. Harry looked around and found a discarded showerhead. He picked it up and swam over to the mirror, swinging the head around with all the force he could muster underwater.

The glass cracked but didn't break.

Harry growled, rearing back and hitting the glass again.

This time the compromised mirror shattered, and then it exploded under the weight of the water. The recruits were thrown bodily out of the barracks and into a concrete cubicle, with Merlin standing to the side.

"Harry! Excellent work! If it weren't for you, Sophia would have drowned and you lot would have been stuck under there for a while yet."

"You locked the bloody door."

"I did, it was the obvious way out now wasn't it? We can't have you looking for the obvious solution. Of course, if it works then it works, but if it doesn't?"

"Break two way glass while your instructor tries to kill you all."

"Essentially. You all passed your first test. Bourne, good work with the toilets. For those of you who are still confused, if you can get a pipe around a u-bend, you'll have an unlimited oxygen supply." [1] Merlin grinned as he jotted a few notes down on his clipboard. "Congratulations, you've all passed your first test. Don't worry, things are only going to get harder from here. Come on, now that you're all awake, there are towels and uniforms waiting for you in the next room over. You've just washed up, now get dressed. Your training starts in ten minutes. You'll have that time to get dressed then I'll take you topside. Go ahead, get on with it!" Merlin barked as we all scrambled through the next door.

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" Abi asked Harry as she pulled her shirt over her head.

"I don't know." Harry muttered as he doffed his clothes, snatching a towel from the rack in front of him as he dried himself as quickly as possible.

"You aren't going to give up, are you Major?"

"No way in Hell, Miss Bourne." Harry grinned as Abi wrapped a towel around her previously bare chest. "Are you?"

"A little wet hair won't hold me back, Potter."

"Drowning might have."

"Hmph." She smirked as she took a hair dryer hanging on the wall. "Maybe, but they'd have revived me."

"Would they?"

"You don't think so?"

"It's an intelligence agency, Abi. Don't think for a second that just because they call themselves knights that they're noble. They have to be ruthless."

"I never thought of it that way…"

"No one ever does." Harry said as he met her worried green eyes. "But we're going to get through this one way or another."

"And the only way out is through?"

"Damn right it is."

[1] - Italics, quoted from Kingsman: The Secret Service.