“I’d feel better.”
Q shrugged into his coat and slipped his laptop into his messenger bag, frowning at the agent hovering at his office door as he did so.
“It’s not my task to make you feel anything, 007.”
Bond ignored the comment and pressed on. “Alright then. Think of the cats.”
Q paused in buttoning up his coat and glared at him over the rim of his glasses.
“Were anything to happen to you traversing London. On your own. In the dark.”
Q rolled his eyes. “It’s London, Bond. Not No Man’s Land. And it’s never bloody dark…” Then it hit Q. London might be dark. For some. With no cats. No companions. No fixed abode but an entire city that never sleeps, for an agent who never stills.
“Fine,” he huffed, his pretence at being put out but caving to Bond’s request, impressing himself even if it was he who did think so.
“But if my cats don’t like you, don’t expect an invite in for tea,” he grumbled, pushing passed him.
Bond smiled to himself and followed, pulling the office door behind him. “Oh, cats love me, Q. They always recognise a fellow predator…”