So it was with some apprehension that he looked into the envelope, only to have his fears melt away in a sudden blaze of excitement.
It was a knock-off arduino-style board with poorly-stamped markings in characters he couldn’t identify, much less read.
For one thing, they weren’t detail-oriented and driven when it came to paperwork, unless it was paperwork. And it wasn’t as if he had to deal was an extreme word.
Same with avoiding meetings, coming up with inventive excuses for destroying equipment, and generally doing whatever the hell they wanted, regs or not. At first, the attention had been carefully balanced between flattering and baffling.
Probably pulling up the bloody spreadsheet.“Thank you,” Bond said cheerfully. Filled it out, along with my AAR, on the plane ride back.” He shook the envelope lightly, and something jingled inside.
I didn’t have time to do much more than ask it what the weather was, to open the wine cellar, and to deploy a pack of defence bots that looked more like vacuums than anything else, but I thought you might have fun with it anyway.”“Defence bots.” Q blinked and looked at Bond in surprise. He bent over it, fingers brushing Q’s as he traced the edge.
(The original mug had been a gift from Q’s brother; Q had never had the heart to admit that it had been destroyed, which made Bond’s gift accidentally very thoughtful and welcome.)And then, he .
As per Q’s new policies, Q assigned Bond his own field team and let them handle all contact.
The other agents had tried gifts as part of their stalking, though Q had refused every single one.
He really didn’t feel like getting dragged before a review board for inappropriate executive conduct, and accepting one gift would leave him either obliged to accept them all or stuck playing favourites unintentionally.