It only took a few more seconds for Danny to register the presence of a friendly party. Tequila was no threat to him, especially not with the way they had met. He inhaled sharply before grabbing onto the other’s arm and pulling himself up. He made no effort to put space between the two of them, perfectly comfortable to just have his hand on someone he could trust. 

Three times he started trying to talk - what should he say? He couldn’t remember what triggered his panic, just that he just needed to go dark, quickly. It had taken him maybe three minutes to turn everything off. It was a practised set of motions by this point. A drill he had perfected with time. Eventually he chose to laugh at the other’s attempt at a joke though it came out more forced than genuine. Maybe if he pretended that there had been no panic at all, then perhaps he could just– forget.

“This is– fucking- stupid.” He eventually forced out, shakiness making it difficult to actually keep his voice under control. 

Lifting Holt up to his feet was an easy enough task and the agent was content to let him hang on as long as he needed to. Since the only light in the room was what little bit managed to break through the window curtains, no details could be made out. All that Quila could see was his thin frame outlined - Holt didn’t usually look ill, he did now. He was hunched in on himself, head down, feet apart like he was bracing against something, he shook, he wasn’t able to speak.

       He had gotten lost in thought, trying to think of some other way he could have been watched - every appliance was off, power to the house cut off. His phone turned out and locked inside the safe, the computer unplugged and tape over both the microphone and the camera, and then huddling himself down, completely out of sight.

       The worst part was he knew it was irrational. He worked for mi6 now, there was no reason to fear them anymore. He wasn’t doing anything wrong, there was absolutely no reason for him to be as panicked as this. But it had come suddenly, the urge to get himself hidden and away from any potential feedback anyone could get out of him. It was his racing mind and focus on trying to keep himself hidden that he hadn’t even noticed that his isolated silence had been intruded upon until Tequila had knelt down right in front of him.

      For a moment he reacted harshly, leaping to his feet and grabbing the nearest object to make a makeshift weapon, tossing the blankets away in a threatening display, a warning to give him space. Or so he thought. Instead, he simply got to his feet and stumbled, legs wrapped in the blanket tight enough to only have him toppling back onto the blanket and the makeshift weapon consisting of his tea cup, which now lay in pieces on the tile floor, amid a puddle of cold tea.

Tequila’s movement was a split second behind Danny. He hadn’t been prepared for the violent response, and was immediately springing up also, left hand sweeping away the blankets and the flash of movement that revealed a weapon brought to bear, and his left reaching for the handle of his retracted bull whip. There was no space to use the full ten feet of length, but the handle would easily be wielded as a baton. Another second was what it took for his own mid to catch up, issue a reminder that this was not a hostile threat, this was a friend having some sort of episode. 

Of course, the way that his housemate fell over himself and the blankets and wound up on the floor prevented any need for having to disarm him. As soon as it was clear that Danny was presently down for the count, he replaced the whip. “I know ya like yer tea there Danny, but I don’ think it melts Americans the same way watcher do witches.” Quila’s tone was light and he knelt down again to gently untangle the other man and kicked the broken pieces of ceramic out of the way. “C’mon you, back up ye get. What’s going on here?”

       The first thing to notice was how incredibly dark the entire house was. There was no doubt that Danny was home to be had, but the house was silent. The heater wasn’t humming lowly, there was no electric whine from the appliances, not even from the fridge. Computer was dead, the lights wouldn’t respond to being touched. And in the middle of the living room sat Danny, bundled up in far too many blankets, leaning against the couch, staring into a half-empty cup of tea that had stopped steaming long ago while the cats snoozed peacefully next to him.

       The only illuminating source was from the street lamps outside, casting a myriad of oddly shaped shadows around the room while Danny kept himself turtled, entirely unwilling to have anything reconnected in the near future. He had gone dark, and fully intended to stay that way until the set of panic went away.

@agnt-quila liked this for a starter!

From outside the house looked just fine, not even a blade of grass out of place. When Jesse stepped inside, he automatically reached for the light switch at the same time that he doffed his hat (the bowler, as he’d been at work) and kicked off his boots. He stopped, brows furrowed, and began running a mental catalog of the house. No noise anywhere, not even appliances. Had a breaker been tripped? No....it wouldn’t affect the whole house then. Had a payment been missed somewhere? No, he had seen Danny handle all that on time. 

An issue with a transformer up the road perhaps, or the power company itself? Most likely. 

Daniel had taken a step back so that he was out of casual arms reach from Jesse. “From where?” Even if it had been three years since the virus pandemic, there was a very high probability that things still floating around would be infected. “Aren’t you supposed to be going clean?”

Danny was a stubborn man, would not let people he hadn’t had the chance to thoroughly observe and learn the patterns of behaviour from, he wouldn’t let them consistently make demands of him. He was getting there with Tequila, but it was still a bit to go.

What it seemed Tequila didn’t see was how much Q. trusted Bond to know what would be necessary in the field, what would suit his style the best. “Double-oh seven is one of the best agents I’ve had the pleasure of working with. He knows what he needs, and I trust him enough to allow it. There’s a particular reason he doesn’t get the custom built vehicles or the more expensive–” 

He stopped short, fixing Jesse with an observant blink. The unhappiness from Jesse regarding the situation was palpable. “He does his job. I do mine.”

The Statesman agent remained silent. His arms were still crossed and he raised a single brow and canted his head to the side while the Quartermaster explained. Custom tailor-made  toys still made zero sense to him, and Tequila highly doubted it was just his simple preferences. 

The same button was tapped several times in a row - not purposefully, but a second-nature reflex intended to ease his nerves and soothe him as he processed both how to incorporate the changes Bond wanted alongside listening to Tequila’s complaints. He wasn’t familiar with the term but a casual pull of an internet browser and a search of the term proved useful: A gullible person. An easy target. Someone who doesn’t retaliate.

Did that really suit him? He’d stood up for his ethical code often enough, he felt like he voiced a fairly clear opinion when it came to keeping bystander casualties to a minimum. Hardly. Time to defend himself, should that be what Tequila was after. “Agent 007 understands his own needs, it is my job to provide for him what best helps him complete his mission.”

Tequila remained scowling with his arms crossed. Oh sure, Holt would push back against him, but not the guy making him bend over backward for new toys. 

Since he was inside the building, Tequila held his hat in one hand while making his way to the workshop. It helped hide the way his hand’s had picked up a bit of a tremor since being made to go cold turkey. Too prideful to admit he was having trouble, the agent was determined to bear his teeth and grit it. He rapped on the workshop door frame to announce his presence before entering. “Good ta see ya up an’ movin’ round there.”

I’m currently at my parent’s house. Got military graduations and weddings and all sorts of stuff going on this weekend.

I don’t have my computer with me, but I’m writing out replies to type when I get back.