dontcockitup-blog

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The side of his thumbs taps against the wooden table in anxious, staccato rhythm. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap. He got to where he is today with nerves of steel, by staying calm in a crisis. By keeping things impersonal.

And so, a sharp breath in is the dividing line; placing any personal concerns aside, and looking on this as nothing more than a job that needs to be done.

His thumb stills.

“Maybe so,” he agrees. “But I can’t just make you disappear overnight, Hamish. We’re MI6, not the Stasi.” A wan smile. There are few enough men in the world he truly trusts, and this man is the best of them. They share too much for it to ever be any other way. They owe each other too much. To make him disappear – this is not half as much as the man deserves, if it’s what he needs. But still, it is no small feat.

@warlocked [ from ]

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Ralph Fiennes as Gareth Mallory

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S.A.S

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quarterofamaster:

     “You can do a lot with tinsel.” Suppose he could develop something between then and now– outside of company time, of course. “But I suppose you’re right– ours shouldn’t focus on frivolous things like the holidays.”

“I’m sure one could.” There’s amusement to the second meaning he’s tucked behind those words -- implications that in a place like this, even the most innocent of Christmas decorations could be made deadly in a frankly staggering number of ways.

There’s some accession there, Mallory relenting with only faux reluctance. “Frivolous seems a little strong. There’s nothing in the rules to keep you from decorating your own work space, safety regulations notwithstanding.”

There’s a twinkle in his eye. “And of course, should Miss Moneypenny decide she’d like to add some festive cheer within my office ---”

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myrlins:

“ — and what will you have left?”

@dontcockitup  one liner call ( song: icarus - bastille ) !

Pursed lips are set in grim line. He has done nothing but make hard choices for years, now. Choices that he will never be thanked for. But they will have been made, and the burden will have been prevented from weighing down someone else’s shoulders.

     “I’ll have my damn pride. And if they want that too, well -- I’ll know I’ve given all I can give.”

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♛: Sharing a dessert

It’d become something of a weekly thing, meeting up for dinner and drinks to unwind whatever stresses their very stressful job induced. Work, of course, never stopped in the world of espionage, and what little reprieve they could take, they took.

At first, it’d simply been Q dropping in on whatever meal Mallory had been enjoying in solitude, until it became a somewhat regular thing for the older to expect the younger to pop in at any moment, sometimes even going as far as to order a proper meal for the quartermaster before Q had even arrived.

And it was always during these times that they kept work off the table— unless it was absolutely necessary.

It was during these times they talked about everything else.

“I haven’t talked to them in years, actually.” It’s a comment spoken between bites of Trifle. “They know I live in London, but— that’s about it.” Q gives a light shrug before extending his dessert spoon out for another bite.

They sit together, in leisure, side by side over a single dessert made with cream and berries and bits of cake. The comment causes Mallory to pause a moment, spoonful of trifle lifted midway to his lips.

“You mean they don’t even know who you work for?” There’s a bit of amusement in the way Mallory speaks before taking a bite, and Q simply shakes his head.

“Well, I hadn’t bothered to tell them.” He admits. “It’s better they think I’m living deviantly doing god knows what under every bridge in London— at least it’s colorful.” He smirks, scooping a heaping helping of trifle as though it were a little victory for himself.

Mallory can’t help, but smile at the sarcasm.

“I guess it could be worse.” Mallory hones in on a particular blueberry. “They could be living with you.”

Q huffs a laugh, bite unfinished. He lifts a napkin to his lips to hide that fact before finishing, so he can speak properly. “And that would be my actual nightmare.“

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quarterofamaster: ( Q )

     “It’s Christmas, who could fault someone for showing a little spirit? Unless, heaven forbid, there’s an attack– then, perhaps, a paper crown might be a bit inappropriate.” There’s a small frown on pursed lips at the thought. 

      “Then we’ll let the snowman wear the paper crown.”

   “Regrettably we are not often bearing tidings of comfort and joy.”

It’s only October; he’s not sure how the conversation even ended up here.

    “I think we might have to draw the line at tinsel.”

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quarterofamaster: ( Q )

     “String lights. Something silly enough to bring in the holiday spirit. Maybe even a few paper crowns?” 

@dontcockitup 

   “ -- I’ve a snowman somewhere that sings ding dong merrily on high when you press a button. Drives Moneypenny mad. Not sure about paper crowns, though. Always the chance someone’ll forget and try to address a press conference still wearing it.”

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@myrlins ( Hamish )

  “ ---- I need you here. Now. And for god’s sake, bring something explosive.”

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vespxr: ( Ms. Lynd )

VESPER WAS no fool - the glances shot at her as she made her way towards M’s office told their own story - and under no pretense that she wasn’t unknown within the agency. But the personal did not matter, it wasn’t anyone’s business when it came to business. He greeted her, and she in kind, taking a seat across from him. 

“ I did, briefly, on a mission that I am sure you are more than aware of. ”

“Indeed.”

Though he knows the details perfectly well, he shifts a few pieces of paper on his desk, takes the time to glance over one. There is nothing more unsettling to people than to see that you know them and their past by heart.

“You showed a great deal of bravery.” After all, there is little in this world so hard as admitting to your errors. “And we are, of course, very grateful that you returned 007 to us in one piece.” He smiles, light humour in his words.

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quarterofamaster: ( Q )

       “Well– no, not exactly.” He doesn’t keep track of any dinner plans, but does, on occasion, get notifications of whereabouts of certain persons. Not that he’s actively trying to intrude on M’s life; if ever there’s a need to reach the man, knowing M’s location is relatively important.

        “You pinged.”

It’s a smile that touches his lips at that. You pinged, as though it was perfectly normal for his employees to be keeping track of him. He doesn’t ask the mechanism -- safer not to. You can’t give up what you don’t know, and he’s not naive enough to assume that, as the section chief, he’s not at some distant risk.

“Well, I’m glad to see that whatever you’re doing works, at least. Now if only we could ensure it worked so well on 007.” Is that a touch of knowing in his voice? Perhaps. After all, as M, he has access to the man’s full service record, and suspicions of fellow pupils, servicemen and officers lying to support Bond have followed him all his life. He’d be an idiot to believe it had stopped now.

He spears the final forkful of asparagus from his plate, and then tucks his cutlery together. One of the reasons he likes this place is that they’re efficient; his plate is whisked away, and dessert menus handed over.

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myrlins:

“ It wouldn’t do you much good. ” Mallory knows him well; that when decision’s made, the steel of his mind would not bend so easily, even with the flare that comes with emotions well tempered that once, perhaps, had influenced. ( Mission first, it was here in MI6 where he had learnt this; and the tears shed and broken hearts could be cared for in private. ) He’s a kingsman now, not quite active and on the field; but someone needs to keep their eyes on the screen. 

There’s little that Merlin shares between his past and his present; more so the travel of news downstream to Mallory. Discretion was paramount to the organisation; a set of rules with no desire to waver and a risk that comes with any threat to break. He himself has maintained anonymity well enough ( lonely, in a sense; in the life flashes he’s bound to have; the reel of memory he knows stops and stills at a certain date and the remembering of embrace, and an extended hand that’d grown too cold in anticipation ). 

“ You’re correct. ” He won’t give him his new name; comrades could fall at the mention, he knows that — it’s a spy’s world, where information was power and methods of operation were as expansive as the universe they lived ; and a name might as well be a ticket to everything they worked hard for and kept secret all these years. So, Merlin opts for common ground. 

“ Hamish works. ” 

This at least, Mallory did know. 

“Thought not.”

Not that he’s in need of another quartermaster at this precise moment in time; he’s got one who’s more than just merely capable and who he happens to be particularly fond of. But Six is always crying out for new talent -- or old, as the case may be here -- and he’s never one to turn it down.

“Ah, well. Time marches ever onward, I suppose.” Fingers drum against his desk, and he takes a moment to wonder what the erstwhile quartermaster spends his time doing these days, if not being exasperated by 007. An occupational hazard for anybody involved with the double-ohs.

“Hamish,” he repeats, as though he didn’t already know the man’s name, hadn’t already seen those files, signed off on them. “In which case I suppose it’s only fitting that you call me Gareth.”

A smile twists at his features.

    “ --- I’d almost gotten a little too used to M, anyway.”

Whereas his predecessor had been known solely by the assigned letter -- name a mystery to most, except the more... precocious agents, first and foremost to 007 -- he had been a public before he had taken over the role. Though he officially goes by the moniker, it lacks the ubiquitous quality of some other agents’. It’s nice to be reminded that he does still have a name, hiding behind it.

“Well then, Hamish. What is it that MI6 can do for you?”

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quarterofamaster: ( quartermaster )

     Well, I’ve never been one to oppose dessert. 

    “The crème brûlée is frankly divine. Tell me, do you keep track of my dinner plans, or were you just passing?”

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@vespxr

   “ ---- Miss Lynd.”

It might be considered rude, given that they haven’t been formally introduced -- but he suspects they’re neither of them suffering under the misapprehension of the agency’s knowledge of her. 007 is notorious in a whole host of ways; to hold his interest -- to mean so much -- is no mean feat.

     “I believe you worked briefly with my predecessor.”

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quarterofamaster: ( Q )

      Duly noted. May I join you, sir? 

    ---- I’d be delighted. Though you’re a little late for the entrees.

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[ tiny starter call ] 

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( ☂ ) one muse gives the other their umbrella.

It’s easy to forget the world continues turning, when you’re locked away in a bunker under London, diligently working on new tech or repairing a shattered infrastructure. The sun can rise and set, and he’d work through it all, unaware the hours had even passed, save for the amount of coffee consumed. 

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