#4 Poolside Patter

A stream of bubbles exploded from Drake’s mouth, in a growl of annoyance at his blunder, although underwater, it was more of a bemused gurgle. Kicking off with his powerful legs, he swam upwards until he breached the surface of the pool. Regaining his composure, he paddled over to the woman, who was now climbing up the steps. Drake tried his best not to stare at her shapely,

swim-suit clad figure as she addressed him.
“Drake Mandible, I presume?”

He couldn't really pick the accent either. Polish maybe, or perhaps Swiss? He clambered up the ladder after her.
“Yes, the one and only, Ms…”

She ignored his offered hand.
“Mr Mandible, let me get straight to the point. I am here on behalf of the Silent Killers United League based in Liechtenstein and Scandinavia, or S.K.U.L.L.S. for short. We also specialize in espionage, in Berlin.”
Scandinavia! THAT’S where she was from.

“We have heard of your proficiency as a marksman and we wish to employ you, effective immediately.”

Drake shook his head.
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline, for a number of reasons,” he replied. “Firstly, because I'm morally and ethically opposed to everything that people of your profession stand for. No offence. Secondly, I find your acronym shoddy. It should be S.K.E.U.L.B.L.S.
Finally: because I know from first-hand experience that international assassin organisations have absolutely no dental coverage.”
“Oh, that is a shame,” said the woman, with a hint of disappointment in her voice. “You could have been one of our best operatives.”
She turned, bent down and from underneath her towel, produced a small, pearl-handled revolver.
Drake’s face fell.
“Oh…”