Work Text:
Q sat on the bench, staring at the endless stretch of water. Bond had insisted it was “romantic.” Q, however, could only think: It looks like Windows 95’s default screensaver.
He shifted, eyeing the horizon. “If I squint, those islands resemble burnt toast. Appropriate, really, given the last time you had a go at cooking.”
Bond, leaning against the tree, smirked. “You’re supposed to be appreciating the view.”
“I am,” Q replied primly. “I’m appreciating how many places I could fake my own death and escape MI6 forever. That one...” he pointed at a speck of land “seems ideal for a hermit with Wi-Fi. Like me.”
Bond chuckled. “You’d last two days before missing proper tea.”
Q sniffed. “Three. Possibly four, if I rationed the biscuits.”
The sea lapped quietly against the shore. Bond thought it was a peaceful silence.
Q thought it sounded like the ocean laughing at him.