A/N: I know what you're all thinking...whoa, they updated. Well, not that many of you read this REALLY so I guess it kind of doesn't matter. But it does. BECAUSE WE LOVE YOU IF YOU DO READ THIS! SO FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO CARE, WE ARE TERRIBLY, EXTREMELY SORRY FOR TAKING TWELVE YEARS TO POST THIS!
Disclaimer: ليست لنا - yes, it's in Arabic. Google translate claims it says 'that is not ours'. If you speak Arabic, feel free to correct us!
Btw, if anyone gets the 'twelve year' reference, we'll dedicate the next chappy to you!
Q Branch had once been described (only God knew by whom) as the backbone of MI6. This had become a point of pride for the Q Branch craftsmen and women (no one knew who had named them that either), who worked diligently to keep the SIS running smoothly, securing the data bases and supplying agents with gadgets. They were looked upon with silent admiration by the rest of MI6 and the new Quartermaster was pleased to be heading them.
But not having worked with them for very long previously, he really had no idea what he was in for.
It had all started with the newly employed techie, Andrea Sayers. Her qualifications were flawless; perfect high school results, Cambridge graduate - all that jazz which never really impressed Q (because he was kind of a genius) and, in fact, kind of bored him. Nevertheless, despite his general lack of approval, he disapproved of the other candidates even more; and so Andrea Sayers found herself programming a new trial application meant to help newbie agents out in the field with Q watching her every step like a hawk; just in case she made a mistake.
Her bubbly personality and overly optimistic nature nearly cost her her job a few times during that project. And as Q walked into her small office, data stick it hand, his eyes widened and then closed in a silent prayer for patience. No use; this time he was throwing her arse out of MI6, making sure along the way that she would be an unemployed reject forever.
She was singing the llama song.
Or at least, that was what Q called it to himself, as it consisted mainly of the word 'llama' and other words thrown in. He stood behind her for a few seconds, torn between amusement and worry as she typed in time to the song.
"Miss Sayers what on Earth are you doing?" She swivelled in her chair and looked at him innocently,
"What you told me to, sir." Q took a soothing breath, thrust the data into her hand and strode out of the office to get a cup of Earl Grey. A cheerful chorus of "here's a llama, there's a llama, and another little llama'' followed him until he was out of earshot.
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