"What're you doing, then?"
"Nothing."
"C'mon, you have to be doing something."
"I said nothing, Bond." Q snapped without lifting his eyes from the big screen in front of him, that started filling up with maps, blueprints, and reels of code. He may like James, but he would definitely not show it. Especially not in the work place; he was a professional.
Bond stood up, carelessly disrupting a few papers (which Q hastily rearranged) and sauntered off in the direction of his office.
Bond's office, like the rest of MI6, was currently underground. The reason for this being that it was clearly common sense, in the Ministry's eyes, to hide the Ministry easier and more effectively, whilst it also increased security tenfold. Bond's office was therefore relatively small, with the blasted dog statue M so kindly gave to him in her will sitting smugly on his desk, staring at him.
His attention on it was brief, however, as at that very same moment, She walked in. She was tall, with long blonde hair tied into a neat bun, had legs that went on forever, and a figure to die for. Which many, in fact, had.
Her heels clicked across the stone floor as she sat down on Bond's desk, and handed him some papers.
"M says to be at the debriefing for five, and don't be late this time."
"Well, I wouldn't want to put a frown on that pretty little face of yours, now would I?" asked Bond, playfully.
"I'm sure you wouldn't." She said, leaning over the desk and placing a perfectly manicured hand upon his knee. "Because then you'd have to answer to me."
She walked out of the office, her hips attracting the attention of every man in the Ministry as she walked up the stairs to M's office.
Cheeky bitch, Bond thought.
"Ah, Mr Bond. Finally, you grace us with your presence." M was clearly not happy.
"Oh, well, um, yes. I had some, erm, important business to attend to" he mumbled, tucking his shirt back into his pants, and fixing his black tie.
"And I'm sure Miss West also had the same business of which to attend?" M asked.
The secretary flushed bright red, readjusting her necklace.
Bond glanced over at Q, who suddenly seemed very interested with the content of his teacup, and then at Her, who was casually biting her lip, seeming very interested with the content of Bond's-
"Well I suppose we better get started then, shouldn't we." snapped M as Bond gingerly took a seat at the opposite end of the table, and as far away from M as he could place himself. "Moscow has an agent in it that we need to quickly, how should I put this, 'dispose of'", glancing over at Q.
Q hated the way people here treated him like a baby. Just because he was younger than the previous Quartermasters certainly did not mean he was more inexperienced, and could take whatever the Ministry flung at him. He may have never been out in the field, and this may be his first assignment, but he had seen Homeland.
"So, who is he?" asked Bond.
"Ivan Tarasov: a deadly agent and an even deadlier enemy. We need him written off, now. He's involved in a plot to assassinate the Prime Minister in a couple of months, at the Queen's official birthday. We're sending you in a week."
"I'll be accompanying you, Bond." She said. "Are you okay Q?"
Q hastily picked up the two remnants of his pencil, recently broken from shock and frustration.
"Oh, yes. Fine. Excuse me, a moment." Q quickly walked out of the room but not quick enough to not see the look pass between James and Her.
Great, another dozen gadgets, destined to be broken in the hands of a reckless show-off.