highly unorthodox

[full_of_wrath]

Mallory is a man who is able to accomplish almost anything he sets his mind to. By all rights, stepping into her shoes, the whole office should have bucked the readjustment, some of the older agents in particular... but somehow they don't. They fall smoothly into line underneath him, and for one simple reason.

Mallory is incredibly good at reading, at soothing, at moving people the precise way he wants to, at achieving the desired result from resource after human resource. He has Bond twitching with loyalty, has Moneypenny working with focused devotion, and has Q happily ensconsed in a lab with almost free reign and near unlimited resources and enough supervision and oversight to give his days structure. Every one of them, and everyone else in the bureau besides, each so lovingly tailored into just the right spot, not only makes the transition smoothly but rapidly begins to thrive under his gentle touch.

Which is why it's unheard of, the request he makes of Q this afternoon, to meet him in his office, even more unheard of his request to take on a new trainee and manage him closely, report anything he sees out of the ordinary. But it's also why Q can be sure it's for a damn good reason.

John Harrison, the newest upheaval in his life, will be waiting for him down in his office when Mallory is done with him.

Comments

[full_of_wrath]

"I'm here because I'm highly intelligent and Mallory wants to use me as an asset. I'm dangerous, thus the constant supervision, but I'm not likely to be dangerous to. I'm here because it's a better alternative than my other offers, so my cooperation keeps me in line."

He informs him, serenely. 'His own words' are word for word what Q reported earlier, but.

[queues]

Q narrows his eyes at him, before taking a deep breath and turning away.

"Fine. Down the hall, second door to your left is an empty room. Go sit there and I'll bring in the prototypes later."

[full_of_wrath]

"I'll wait quietly."

He promises, moving up to slip away.

Actually, he'll go find someone else's work desk in the mean time, and start there.

[queues]

And Q will be standing over him about fifteen minutes later, watching him. Not scolding, not yet, but- merely watching. Curious.

[full_of_wrath]

He looks up, innocently, when he arrives.

"Ready for me to begin?"

In the mean time, he's been looking through every propeller system they have, and is drafting up on another screen a lists of components and chemicals he'll need.

[queues]

"Show me what you're doing."

[full_of_wrath]

"You're getting more and more invasive. Look it over yourself, I don't have the inclination to baby you."

Glaring at him, before snatching a pen and paper, starting to create diagrams.

Flight technology improves aerodynamically in the future, as well as in terms of propulsion. He just works on the shape of the craft for the moment, demonstrating with deft strokes a tiny chasis that would fly well, with purely vestigial wings. Everything gets too loud when you try to lift from the wings themselves; this design bypasses that. It still isn't hardly strong enough for any kind of recording device, sound or otherwise, but he has another plan.

[queues]

"I'm the babysitter and the prison guard. I'll tell you to show your work as I please."

But he holds his tongue from futher comment, instead just watching Harrison draw an move, his chin tilted a little in curiosity.

"...where did you learn this?"

[full_of_wrath]

"Right now it's only advanced theory."

But the equations he's adding along the margins indicate that it should work.

"Do I merit a station, now, or shall I carry on waiting here?"

[queues]

"...no, keep going."

Q leans in over him, fingers tracing softly over the numbers he's written.

"This here, it's based on a theory that doesn't exist. No mathematicians have published works using similar equations."

[full_of_wrath]

"'Doesn't exist' and 'not published' are not synonyms. Clearly it does exist, and clearly I haven't published it."

He tells him, snatching a clean sheet of paper to write the proof out for him in full.

[queues]

"What were you planning on doing with this information?"

Curiously, watching him.

"Doesn't seem like something a deadly weapons expert would care much about."

[full_of_wrath]

"There are a lot of things I'd qualify as an expert at. M seemed the most interested in the weaponry, but if you prefer to keep me relegated to flying spyware, you're going to have to get me barite paper, and a few lenses."

Deft hands drawing out the idea for the insides.

"It'll be good for one shot. Expose the paper to the room, with the help of the right piece of glass it will generate one still photo per usage. Not the stuff spy novels are made of, but certainly enough to... say determine the identities of a few men at a meeting, or to prove one took place."

[queues]

"Weaponry is boring and outdated."

Quietly, tilting his head toward the drawings.

"I'd rather build radio equipment and autopilot functions on motorbikes then bombs that only kill a certain criteria of people. We're an intelligence agency, not the bloody army."

[full_of_wrath]

"That's all good and lofty, but it's not really true of the experiences of the men on the ground. They need to be able to fight."

Reminding him, quietly.

[queues]

"And I make superb weapons for when they do, but if you're trying to tell me that a spy needs heavy artillery..."

[full_of_wrath]

"Yes, I'd suggest that on occasion they really do."

Cheery, giving him a smile.

"Have you ever actually spied?"

[queues]

"I've been in the industry long enough to know that weapons experts only think about making weapons."

Q rolls his eyes.

"I'm with all of the spies, wherever they go."

[full_of_wrath]

"But you don't actually have any sense of the excruciating vulnerability, do you?"

He challenges, eyebrows lifting.

[queues]

"It's a different feeling."

The sarcasm has all but left his tone, arms crossing in front of him.

"Being there, in their ear as they're dying. I don't know vulnerable, but I do know helpless, and I do everything I can to prevent that."

[full_of_wrath]

"And sometimes, you can prevent that with a gun."

He tells him, matter of factly.

"Wonderful."

[queues]

"I'm not going to argue semantics with you."

Clipped, as he turns away.

"Do you bloody work."

[full_of_wrath]

"Let me."

He snaps back, eyebrows lifting.

"I'll file my report."

[queues]

"Fine."

And he's gone.

[full_of_wrath]

He'll wait to corner him again until the end of the day- whereupon he takes a peculiar joy in filling up all of the doorway of Q's office, lifting an eyebrow at him.