Hofdrache



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    Bond’s fingers undo the first three buttons on his collar, and then he’s pushing it aside, and Q can’t help the sharp intake of breath when he sees what lies underneath the fabric. There’s bruising there, fresh and still forming, red and violet against the agent’s pale skin. Q can see the outlines of individual fingers curling around the side of his neck, far too clear and deliberate to be the result of a fight. Clarity tastes sour in the back of Q’s throat as he realizes, exactly, what Bond meant when he rasped out tried.


    The double-oh agents are Q's. The rest of MI6 would do well to remember that.

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    30 Nov 2023