Despite my best intentions, these have gotten away from me. But I will continue to do my best to post one at least every other day.
Contents: 00q, ANGST, also Bill Tanner
Warnings: James is drunk. VERY drunk.
Q-branch is dark, save for the blue glow of screens and a desk lamp. Q sits at the desk at the far end of the bullpen, his usual perch, and types rapidly for several seconds, then pauses. The reflection in his glasses makes it seem as though he’s fallen asleep, which wouldn’t be inconceivable since it’s nearly half-three in the morning, but then there’s a shake of head, or a slender arm extending towards the mug on the edge of the desk, and the motion shatters the illusion.
Two short, violent bursts of buzzing echo through the cavernous space. Q freezes, clicks his tongue, annoyed that he’s been interrupted, and picks up his phone, thumbing it open as he presses it to his ear.
“Q,” he says.
“Oh, thank god.” It sounds like Tanner, and his tone suggests he’s about ready to pull what hair he has left out of his scalp.