A hush descended across the Division, a wave that rolled across the branch silencing the shifting sands that flowed around Q busily but quietly getting on with their duties.

This could only mean one of three things:

There was a Double-O in the room, Q had momentarily lost his hearing or, their glorious leader was gracing Division with her presence. Out of the three scenarios, Q could only hope—.

"Good morning, Quartermaster." He closed his eyes and resisted taking a deep breath before turning around with a well-trained and respectful smile on his face. Don't overdo it, Q. She may look like your favourite granny but the woman is a mongoose.

"Ma'am. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

She gave him a tight-lipped smile. Uh-oh.

"Just passing through, Q." The likelihood of M passing through anything without good cause was akin to the Pontiff taking a pitstop in a brothel.

"Always a pleasure to see you," he said, with the practised sincerity of a devoted MI employee.

Villiers was hovering behind her, giving nothing away. Q resisted the urge to look directly at him, maintaining soft eye contact with his superior. He fleetingly wondered what it must be like to be at the beck-and-call of the most powerful woman in MI6. Probably as much fun as being in a car with Bond without a seatbelt, he imagined.

She stepped up beside him and absorbed the data flowing across his main screen. The woman missed nothing. Good job Q had nothing to hide. No thanks to Bond, he thought to himself wryly.

"I understand 004 is in Budapest and 007 is meeting with our Chinese contact in Paris." She trained her gaze levelly on him again. Impressive in itself, given she was a good twenty centimetres shorter than him. "Is that correct?"

She knew full bloody well it was correct. "Yes, Ma'am." He looked back at the screen. "They are in silent mode at the moment but 007 should come online in three minutes, 004 in approximately ten. I'm currently monitoring both agents movements."

"I'm sure you are," she deadpanned, ice-pick blue gaze, boring into his own. To his credit, Q didn't flinch. Well, one didn't become the Quartermaster of MI6 without a little self-control and a bugger-ton of composure, did one?

She looked over her shoulder, Villiers shadow-like response to move to one side smooth as a cat. "R," she barked.

The girl glided forward and was next to her before Q barely had time to blink. Good girl.

If M was here to seek out kinks in the armour of Q Division, he hoped she was going to be very gratified to find none.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Take the helm, will you? I need to have a word with Q."

"Of course, Ma'am."

As M turned away, Q fell into step beside her. "As you can imagine, Q, I had to dance a merry dance for my superiors over Bond's little adventure in Tel Aviv." She turned to him then. "Ably assisted by you, I might add."

"I felt a rogue agent under supervision was marginally less of a threat to MI6 than left to his own devices, Ma'am."

She stopped then and turned to face him an appraising but otherwise unreadable look on her face. "Don't think for one second I condone such a rampant and wholly unacceptable breach in the chain of command and use of intelligence resources, Q."

"Not for one fraction of said second. Ma'am," he replied without hesitation.

"Quite." She strolled away, Villiers scurrying after her. "Keep up the good work," she said sharply.

Q took a breath. "Ma'am." Turning on his heel he moved with confident precision back to his post. "Than you, R," he said with a smile, "you can stand down," he nodded to her as he picked up the headset.

Bond's voice arrived smooth and clear in his ear. "Good morning, Q. Sleep well I trust?"

"Like a top, 007. Ready and raring to go. Shall we dance?"

"Only if I can lead," he said, amusement in his voice.

"Don't you always…"

Q watched the video stream as Bond watched.

He supposed he could see the attraction. He wasn't averse to curves. He was quite good at geometry at school. Elements of mathematics in nature, fractals and golden ratios fascinated him. The female gluteus maximus could be said to possess certain such qualities.

"Enjoying the view, 007?"

"Paris in Springtime does hold a certain attraction, Q," he replied, raising his coffee cup to his lips. "Though I'm certain I'd enjoy it more had I some intelligent company."

Q made to ignore the gentle flirting. "Well, from the looks of where I'm sitting, there is little more satisfying to the appetite of a Double-O than coffee and croissants in a Parisian cafe. Should keep the spring in your step," he said. "Amongst other things," he mumbled across the rim of his teacup.

The soft, warm chuckle on the other end of the line made him smile, as Bond pressed his growing advantage. "I'm looking forward to… taking YOU here and putting a spring in your step."

Q glanced over his shoulder, the minions busy fulfilling the requests of their department head. "The only thing you could ever entice me to be involved in that involved flying would be fishing," he stated low but decisively.

"Here I am surrounded by beauty and class, and all I can think about are lines of encryption and colourful socks littering my bedroom floor…"

Q was glad there was no one nearby to note the soft blush creeping across his throat. Charming blighter.

He cleared his throat. "I haven't been anywhere near your residence, Bond, so the thought of my socks on your bedroom floor—"

"Is a travesty we must work together to correct upon my return from this exchange. Don't you agree, Q?"

Thank the Lord this was an unmonitored conversation. "Focus, 007," he replied, as he tapped away on his keyboard, tracking 004 en route to her own rendezvous point.

"You commended me on my ability to multitask only last night. You doubt my capacity in the field?"

"Not for a moment, 007. But I doubt my own ability to maintain focus on the other situation of the other operative under my wing at the moment if you keep harping on about socks, bedroom floors and such like."

Bond stood as he clocked the contact approach. Waterboarding would be less torturous than hearing you say words like that, Q. I'd advise you to brace yourself…"