"Alright, Q," he said quietly.

Rather pleased with himself, he put on some low music and drove a rather twisting route to the safe house.

Inside it was a bit stuffy, closed as it had been. The kitchen was stocked with non perishables, some condiments and drinks in the fridge. There were cat supplies, newly purchased. Q had been meant to come here, after all, and no one had taken it away. The bed had been made fresh a few days ago, and a housekeeper clearly came in from tie to time to dust and hoover.

Bond sat down the cat carrier once the door was shut.