Q

[0_0_7]

It had been hot all week, the humidity making it uncomfortable. But tonight it had started to rain. Hot summer rain started, but then the lightning and thunder came and the winds, too. By midnight it had cooled off and was a passable temperature, even if it was pissing down a drizzle.

Bond had been sent to Paris by way of Algiers in order to locate Fazir Al Habib, a notorious gun runner. MI6 had gotten word he may be dabbling in other wares as well. Intel said he had gotten his hand on some engineered virus out of defunct Soviet vaults and was looking for a buyer. It was imperative, he'd been told, to acquire the biohazard.

He'd made contact with a man named Michele who had set up a meeting. But the briefcase hadn't come through and Bond had no money to show. The meeting was at 9am and he was in a bind, on the phone to the home office every hour.

He stood in his hotel room, watching the rain through an open window, pacing like a tiger. Surely they wouldn't leave him without money to show. They had made clear in no uncertain terms he needed to get this virus.

Comments

[0_0_7]

"And when, exactly, have you always done things 6 would approve of?" Bond countered. "I'ts R&D. Consulting Merlin would qualify as 'R', wouldn't it?"

[cuppa_q]

"Rarely since meeting you," Q replied tartly. "I'll think about it."

[0_0_7]

"Do," he replied. Bond checked his watch, then pulled out his phone. He'd put a tracker on Michele and watched the man drive past the Eiffel tower and head for Mon Marte. He could only guess what he was up to.

[cuppa_q]

"What did you intend to do this evening then?" Q asked curiously, still tapping away.

[0_0_7]

"I was going to keep tabs on Michele, have some dinner, then try to get some sleep. You know that won't happen, though. I never sleep well before a mission like this," Bond replied, still staring at his phone.

[cuppa_q]

"We could order room service and a film," Q offered.

[0_0_7]

"Room service was my plan. I hate dining alone," he said. "But now you're here...I doubt the dining room can compete with your pajamas, though."

[cuppa_q]

"Few things can," he replied with a wistful sigh.

[0_0_7]

"I imagine not," Bond chuckled. "Check the menu and see what you'd like. I'll place the call."

[cuppa_q]

"No, just order me whatever. Just make sure there's bread. No excuse for coming to France and not having bread," Q said absently, still working as he spoke.

[0_0_7]

Bond looked over the menu, then called and placed the order for cheese, bread, a fish dish, a beef dish, dessert, and of course some caviar with creme fraische and caviar. Plenty to sate them.

"Done. I think I may get into my pajamas now...may as well spend the night in comfort."

[cuppa_q]

"A very good idea, double-o seven," Q said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

[0_0_7]

"I think I'll shower first. Can save that bit of time in the morning. I've got time before the food comes. They said about an hour," he said and headed for the bathroom. The shower was grand, flat walk in with different spigots and heads, all very much expected in a luxury hotel like this. He undressed and stepped in, letting the rain head douse him.

[cuppa_q]

Q was tempted to join him, but he knew it was best to let Bond choose his outlets before a mission. Only the double-o truly knew what he needed right now.

[0_0_7]

Bond was in the shower for quite some time. Part of it was washing, but the majority was him standing under the water. He meditated, in a way, running scenarios in his mind of how the morning would play out.

He finally emerged in a towel, beads of water on his shoulders. He started toward the bed but then there was a knock at the door.

The food on the trolley smelled amazing and Bond thanked the porter before he left.

"I ordered quite a bit. Come have something," he said.

[cuppa_q]

Q tapped away a moment longer, then reluctantly closed his laptop and joined the other man, taking some bread and cheese.

[0_0_7]

Bond took some beef, some bread and cheese, and poured wine for them both. But his first course was, naturally, the caviar. If Bond had one weakness when it came to food it was good caviar. The toast points were perfectly crisp, the creme sweet and thick, and the caviar itself chilled and salty. Perfect.

"Are you setting things up?" he asked, nodding to the computer.

[cuppa_q]

"I'm making sure I can keep eyes on you tomorrow. Though if this is an assassination, you can do it in your sleep," Q admitted. "I just like taking precautions."

[0_0_7]

"I hadn't come here planning an assassination. I'll adapt, but I wish there'd been more notice. Still...better than finding out at nine in the morning," he said.

[cuppa_q]

"It's chaos in the office. Seems like everything keeps breaking, M is in a mood, constantly... It's tiring," Q admitted.

[0_0_7]

"When has he ever not been in a mood?" Bond asked. He sat down to eat. "It will get done. I'll get the virus and we can be on our way."

[cuppa_q]

"I look forward to returning home. Travel doesn't agree with me," Q said, picking at his food. He always ate plenty, but he had a way of just selecting random bits here and there until he was full.

[0_0_7]

"You need to get over your fear of flying, Q," Bond replied. "But, in this case, I think we'd better get a car and take the chunnel. I don't want to take any risks with the virus. Certainly not taking it on a plane."

[cuppa_q]

"Yes, I'll get right on not worrying about plummeting to my death in tin can asap," Q said dryly, though he did perk up a little at the mention of returning home via chunnel.

[0_0_7]

"Flying is perfectly safe o long as you're inside the airplane," Bond told him.