“You think they’d have let me in here with this thing if I wasn’t?” Vance drew a gun from his suit pocket and pointed it jokingly at Q. “Yup, pops set me up with a real nice gig here. Walk around parties in dapper suits, shag some babes, shoot some spies, and get free gizmos from milk toast dweebs like you!” His mouth twisted into a cruel smile, revealing a mouth full of pearly white teeth.
“They said you were an accountant at the reunion ya know. I didn’t believe it for a second. No, not lil’ Benjy. I figured you’d be holed up in some government tech nest fighting terrorism with 1’s and 0’s… leaving the dangerous stuff up to men like Bond.”
Fearfully, Q dogged from the direction Vance was pointing the gun. “Would you please put that thing away? You’re going to be arrested if you don’t stop fooling around here.” Shaking his head, the man went back to typing away at his laptop as he listened to Vance talk. “You know, I wouldn’t be calling the person who makes those ‘gizmos’ a dweeb if I were you. Doesn’t usually end up grand.”
He turned back to his old school friend, an eyebrow raised. “Really? An accountant. Can’t believe that cover actually still works.” Q groaned in frustration. He’d always been harassed by men like Vance, but here at M16, he’d thought he’d finally found his place. Guess the past can really come back to haunt people. “Well… I do dangerous stuff too sometimes, Vance. It’s not all just computer work. Can I ask you what exactly you’re doing here? Are you an agent now…?”
"The safety's on boy scout." Vance muttered as he returned the gun to his pocket. "Oh yeah, your job's real dangerous. I hear an untreated paper cut can put you on leave for weeks!" Vance got some sick thrill out of mocking Q; he hadn't felt this alive since senior year. "I'm not just any agent pal, I'm your agent! Or should I say... you're my tech support. Pops wanted only the best for me, and apparently you're the man for the job. I'd be flattered, father isn't easily impressed".