This wasn’t quite right.
Q couldn’t exactly tell what was wrong, yet, but the moment that consciousness started to creep back, the wrongnessthrummed through his blood and behind his closed eyes.
There were voices, Q realised. One was speaking, low and quick, in a language Q didn’t immediately recognize. The words were harsh and guttural and reminded Q of Russian, though it seemed more primal and coarse than the Russian he’d heard before.
The answering voice came from just beside Q’s ear. The language was the same, but this time, Q recognized the voice. It was Bond.
Q took a deep breath, and when the air rushed through his lungs, he felt the wrongness start to dissipate. It irrationally felt like he hadn’t been breathing at all for hours, and the sensation of the returning oxygen was dizzying. Something around him tightened. He was in Bond’s arms. One of Bond’s hands was pressed over his heart, and his fingers twitched when Q took his second breath.
The first voice stopped talking, and there was silence for a long moment until Bond broke it with a low, rough voice. “Q?”
Slowly, with each breath, awareness started to seep back into Q’s mind and body. He was wet and cold. He was on Bond’s lap. Bond’s arms were tight around him; Q could feel a slight but constant tremble run through them. And when Q finally managed to open his eyes, he discovered that he was in a car. Bond’s car. With Alec driving.
When I first got to Seattle, I took a walk around my new neighbourhood, Greenlake, to get to know the place. And by that I mean I went and found the nearest fro-yo shop. As I was rounding the corner back to my house I saw the most glorious thing sitting on the sidewalk: that cat, right there. That glorious, weird-faced cat. He came right up to me and we had a cuddle and I made sure to take a picture. Mostly because how can you verbally describe that face, am I right?
I went inside and was all, “So, Lauren, there’s this weird looking cat.” And she’s all, “The white shaved one with the face?” And I was all, “YEAH!” That’s how that conversation went. She told me that he hangs around the neighbourhood and is super friendly.
After that, every time I left the house or came home, I was hoping to run into the cat again. When I went out the other day for a walk (read: to get fro-yo), he was across the street chillin’. Maybe a little bit of illin’. (I have no idea what that means.) But this time he had a name tag.
AND IT SAID “MISTER FACE”.
Holy shit. That may be the most perfect name for that cat. I can’t even… Ugh, too good.
Anyway, I think Mister Face should be famous on the Internet. He’s obviously way more fantastic than all those other Internet cats (sorry beloved Grumpy Cat and Lil Bub, but it’s true). The only problem is that I’m afraid of Reddit. And everyone knows Reddit is how cats become famous.
So somebody who is not afraid of Reddit should post some pictures of Mister Face so he can become famous. Then when people are all, “Excuse me, ma’am, could you hold the elevator for me?” I can be all, “Um, I discovered Mister Face. What have you done?” as the door closes in their face.