As soon as the door was shut behind him and he was taking a step in the cold night, Q pressed a button on his mobile phone and answered the call.
He tried at least not to sound too unnerved about this disruption of his free evening.
In fact it was the first evening off work since weeks and he has been looking forward to this theatre very much. And now, because of Bond, he had to leave the performance.
'I do hope it's something urgent, Bond', he murmured, while he was still walking away from the building, in case someone was listening.
'Did I interrupt something, Q? Well, I'll make it as short as possible: You must come.'
As usual the agent's tone was derisive as if he wasn't taking his Quartermaster seriously.
But then again his voice was calm and not as harsh as it was, when 007 was in danger. So this was a good sign, which calmed Q down.
'Oh, I must come? And where exactly would you like me to come?' he asked while he rolled his eyes.
'To Lissabon. I was could steal the technology of our enemies but now I need your help.'
'Well I'm sure it's nothing, I can't fix while sitting in my bureau, safely here at-..' Q replied, but Bond cut him off: 'No, I need you here. Your departure is in a few hours, so you better get ready.'
Unnerved the younger one raised his hand and suppressed the urge to smite his forehead.
'Bond, I don't fly. We will get this issue solved together, but I will not be going on a plane!' With every word he spoke, his voice got a little bit louder and harder.
Recently he had noticed that he put up with everything concerning James Bond and that had to change! But instead of the response he had whished for: 'Of course, I respect your decision.' he only got a laughter and a 'We will see' before the connection broke down.
Q looked down on the display and snorted. This ridiculous call from 007 had cost him seven precious minutes of the performance.
Under no circumstances would he climb into an airplane. He knew that they were the safest means of transport, but in his opinion, the humans should stay, where they were supposed to be: Safely on the ground.
Just thinking of flying made him sick, so he rubbed his belly on the way back to the theatre.
But when he wanted to enter again, a member of the staff came up to him:
"Excuse me, Sir, but no one can enter the room, as soon as the performance has started."
Hereupon the young men just nodded and let his hand fall with a sigh.
Yet another time James Bond had managed to ruin his free evening.
Hi there! Yep, the first chapter of my first James Bond FF J As you may have noticed from the text, I'm not a native speaker, but I really try to improve. So if you have any advice, I'd be glad to hear it.