A/N - Because Alex has been screwed over one time too many.

Obvious

It occurred to Alex, somewhere within his many years of tenuous service, that Alan Blunt was a very obvious man.

Not physically of course. Alex had never met someone who was more adept at stoicism than the revered head of MI6 – even a dead man couldn't compare.

He stonewalled you – kept everything blank and unreadable. Honest to God you could stand in front of him and not know whether you were there for a mission or a death sentence. Alex had witnessed that once, a coldblooded assassination.

[The red had been a somewhat pleasant contrast to the bleak gray.]

The man was practically a stone incarnate, but he was still oh-so very obvious.

It was in the way he spoke – always so blatant, so too the point.

"You've killed me."

Even as the poison turned him purple and the gnarled hands clawed at his throat, that damn poker face never faltered – fixed in place, a perfect sculpture.

Alex watched with morbid fascination, a single blonde eyebrow arched as the man sucked in his last breath – he offered a nonchalant shrug as the body went slack.

"Well, you killed me first."