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Honestly, how hard was it to walk and look around WITHOUT touching everything in sight like a sugar hyped toddler set loose in a toy store. Only this particular toy store was stocked with explosives and projectile weapons and chemicals and many things that could electrocute, burn, or cut. Anyone with a modicum of sense would know better than to mess around picking things up in a place where literally anything was a potential weapon. But not James Bloody Bond.
No, James Bloody Bond had sauntered in with his usual suit and swagger, seemingly not for any reason other than to be a pain in the arse. Or nose, this time. He had no mission, no briefing, he didn’t need equipment, and although it wasn’t unusual for him to wander around the departments looking for ways to make a nuisance of himself, he generally wasn’t dumb enough to point potential weapons at people.
Certainly, welcome to Q-Branch”R”Us, 007. Please help yourself to whatever shiny gadget takes your fancy. Wave it around carelessly not knowing what it does as you flick it, twist it, spin it, BOP IT until it launches a small bag of sand into your Quartermaster’s face. Thank you so much. Have a nice day.
There was a moment of “it could have been the taser” that was likely the next in line for random testing, before the shock of the impact seemed to knock the sense out of him.
“You alright, Q?” the blurry thorn in his side asked, placing what he presumed was the launcher back on the table and moving closer.
“You’ve gone blurry,” was all Q could say.
Blurry Bond paused, “er, yes. Your glasses got knocked off.”
“You hit me…”
“Ah. Yes. Sorry.”
“And now everything’s blurry.”
Bond was silent for a moment, before he slowly said, “Okay. Let me fix that.” There was blur of dizzying motion and the agent’s figure was suddenly right in front of him, and he couldn’t help but take a step back as something else was coming towards his face. “Easy. Just your glasses.” And everything came back into focus as Bond slid the arms over his ears, pushing them gently into place, and Q could finally see the double 0 had the grace to look at least somewhat ashamed, though mostly he looked concerned. “Are you okay?”
Q stared for a moment. It was as though with his sight returned, his brain was kicking back into gear, a mix of annoyance and pain likely evident on his face, and he had to bite his tongue on what he really wanted to say. “I’m fine. So, kindly leave me alone and go bother someone else.”
“Right,” was all Bond said before turning to leave.
Q let out a sigh, adjusting his glasses and prodding at his nose and along his cheeks where there was an ache setting in. Hopefully he didn’t get a black eye from this. He turned his attention back to his desk, where he was working on installing tracking chips into innocuous looking objects, and manoeuvring the magnifying glass, he picked up the tweezers and soldering iron.
He stopped as he spotted a few dark red droplets hitting the table, the iron sizzling as a drop landed on the chip is carefully wiring. He stood upright and immediately felt a deluge of warm, thick liquid flowing from his nostrils and down his chin.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” He placed the tools down and turned away, cupping his hands to his nose. It didn’t do much, just drenched his hand in the sticky substance, and he desperately looked around for something better to staunch the flow. As blood was now dripping onto the floor, he settled on using his shirt, pulling it up enough to bunch under his chin as looked for something better. Surely they had a towel in here somewhere. He spotted a cloth, but dismissed it as it already appeared stained with who knows what.
What is one supposed to do in this situation? He sat himself down against a wall, leaning forwards and pinching his nose, but gave up on that after a minute when the thick, metallic goop draining into his throat almost makes him gag. So he held his already blood soaked shirt outwards to catch the dribbling mess, and decides to just wait. Nosebleeds don’t last forever, after all.
+++
James had left, feeling a little guilty and wanting to make quick amends with the man who could essentially ruin him before his first cup of tea in the morning, he headed to the nearest breakroom to make a pacifying brew. Once armed with a steaming cup of Earl Grey he carefully started making his way back.
“Good morning, Bond,” Tanner nodded as they passed in the corridor.
“Morning Tanner. Business with Q?”
Tanner responded by raising the tablet in his hands, and gestured the direction he was headed. “Is he in the workshop?”
“Only so many places he will be, but yes. I just saw him in there. Though he may not be in the best mood.”
“Why? What did you do?”
James raised a hand in mock surrender. “What makes you think I did something?” falling into step alongside Tanner.
Bill chuckled, “the way Q talks, you’ve always done something.”
“Oh, but you know him, he’s grouchy without a cup of tea.”
“And you’re bringing him one. That bad, huh?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Tanner pushed the door open and stood by to let James through first, and they walked into the workshop expecting to find Q at his desk.
“Hm, he was here a few minutes ago.” James walked to place the cup on an empty part of the desk, and that’s when he spotted the blood. “Q?”
Tanner hurried forwards, rounding the desk, eyes following the blood trail where it led to the Quartermaster, leaning against the wall, looking as though he’d just stepped out a horror film. He was covered in blood, his hands, his face, his shirt. “Bond, what the hell did you do?!”
Q glared up at them, looking slightly crazed given his blood-soaked appearance. “That fucking idiot owes me a new shirt!”