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Q should have known better. He’s guided Bond through missions, been there in the aftermath of said missions as a house to break into instead of the “new” M’s. He knew better than to expect any other outcome other than Bond falling for some winsome badass women and leave it all behind. It’s not like Q had thought he was enough for Bond to stick around or anything foolish and juvenile like that.
Q was smarter than this; he was also smart enough to know when the big guns were needed. Less than an hour had passed between Q frantic call to Moneypenny and her arrival at his doorstep with wine, rom-coms, chocolate, and her favorite delivery menus. She had even brought cat treats to keep his hooligans in cuddly moods all night.
“You can’t truly believe this will make it all better?” Q was grateful of his friend but he wasn’t some weepy teenager, he wasn’t.
Moneypenny threw a pillow at the bundle of blankets that was Q, “I dare you to try to keep sulking with an amazing drinking partner like myself. Buck up Q, we have wine to drink, movies to watch and men to curse.”