“I don’t possibly see how me changing my shirt , after spilling tea all down myself has led you to thinking about what you’re missing Bond but i shan’t say i’m surprised.” HE BUTTONS UP QUICKLY , cursing himself for not locking the doors in the first place & tries to hide just how flustered the agents words have made him. INSTEAD ; he forces himself to check the equipment for another 00. Hands busy , mind busy , after all.                 “I do find myself asking though , do you ever think about anything else?” LIKELY NOT. It seemed to be the same across the board for these agents. He supposes it’s because it’s a matter of feeling something. Feeling alive. Q actually cannot remember the last time he’d had sex if he was completely honest with himself. IT’S BEEN FAR TOO LONG. Although he doesn’t spend every moment of the day thinking about it.                 “Really 007.” He mutters , more to himself. 

“That’s because you are a good person.” Maybe most people would think she’s lying, but she isn’t. “The things you do for this job don’t change that.” After all if they did, every single person at MI6 would be damned.

A second glance makes her realise that he’s very much still there, he’s just lying on her rug for some reason. “You know,” she laughs as she approaches him, “I was actually going to be generous and offer you my sofa, not the floor.” She sits down next to him, looking him over before deciding she doesn’t need to be concerned in this particular moment. With a smile she lies down next to him, glancing at him before looking up at the ceiling. “Or is it the novelty of being in a flat that’s not just bare wooden floors and spartan furniture?” she teases, “Maybe you can splurge on some comfort in your next place.”

Good, the stiff ass brit needed it.