AN: Exams are done. Time to curl into a little ball of happy for the night and watch something.
The Grauniad is another name for the Guardian Newspaper, infamous for its multitudes of typos.
Disclaimer:
I own nothing you recognise. This is all completely un-beta'd and totally fresh off the top of my brain!
Miss Bond emerges for dinner – gourmet pizza from the local Italian pizzeria. The dog obediently sits next to her, her permanent and massive shadow.
The damn dog almost undoubtedly weighs more than she does. Didn't her mother feed her? Christ.
Despite his misgivings, Miss Bond manages to pack away the entire pizza. Hawaiian. As per her request through the door. And an entire garlic bread.
Apparently teenagers are also bottomless pits. Or have hollow legs. It should not be possible for that amount of food to disappear into something so tiny, but it does. At an unnatural speed.
They eat in awkward silence at his kitchen island, perched on trendy bar stools at opposite ends.
"Thank you for dinner," she murmurs. Slips off the stool, puts her plate in the dishwasher (good), and darts back to her room. The dog's tail wags as it follows. James quirks an eyebrow.
He folds up the box and puts the pizza in the fridge. It's late enough that James doesn't feel at all guilty about ignoring the 'Identification of Hazards in the Workplace' form Moneypenny has added to his pile of papers. Which, yes, he's technically supposed to fill out for every mission but never actually does.
He doesn't know a single 00 who does.
So instead he settles onto his couch with The Grauniad and a finger of double malt. Puts his feet up on the ottoman and relaxes.
Some time later, his watch helpfully providing the time as nearly 20:00, Miss Bond once more emerges from her room.
"I need to take Steve to the toilet," she says from her door. James digs in his pants pocket and pulls out his house key. Looks at her and ponders for a moment before standing and walking over to her.
"Key to get back in and for the gardens," he says. Fishes out another device from his pocket. "Lift the cover and push this button if anyone tries to kidnap you." He hands that to her as well and she blinks at it. "Only use it if you really need it. It sends an SOS, so will produce a rather dramatic response. There may be helicopters involved."
Her eyes go wide and dart to his face for a brief second. "That is so cool," she says, hands cupping the little device reverently.
"Only in absolute emergencies, not just because someone looked at you funny," James says sternly. Her eyes are still wide and excited.
"Absolutely, Uncle James," she replies, still awed. "Thank you."
"And my number in case of regular emergencies," James says. She whips out her cellphone and puts it in (under Uncle James, he notes). "If you go to the same gate we went to, the key works there."
"Thank you," she says, stuffing everything back into her pockets and wrapping herself up. The dog is once again wearing his harness and hi-vis vest. She lets herself out.
James returns to his newspaper perusing and whisky.
Like it? Love it? Review it!