The hotel room was nice and the wifi was passably fast.
He had also possibly done a bit of hacking to make sure that he got floor seats up near the stage. Quinlen himself wasn’t precisely an expert on the matter, but he enjoyed classical music, and when the opportunity arose to get these tickets, he’d jumped on it. Everyone was flowing in, a leisurely river of humanity eager to listen to Russian piano virtuoso Alexander Paley. “This vacation business isn’t half bad,” he murmured to himself, approaching the Salle Gaveau and clutching his concert tickets close. Snugging his layers of coat and windbreaker tight against the chill autumn weather, Quinlen regained his equilibrium from being on the boat, and strode purposefully off to find a taxi. He’d just about given himself carpal tunnel last week and computer-screen blindness, so he figured he deserved some relaxation. All of his fellow IT friends had laughed and joked at his inability to leave work, but now Quinlen thought that he was ready to just take a breather. He had a hotel room booked in Paris, and even a few fun events to go to in the next week. All of the ‘I promise not to talk about my job’ paperwork signed, all of his things packed, and finally away from London and work. Then again, compared to Quinlen, most people were. Instead, he did a lot of troubleshooting when computers stopped working – a lot of the times in the accounting department, which must have been manned by the technologically incompetent. When he’d gotten the job at MI6, he’d had unrealistic ideas of decoding encrypted messages, engineering the downfall of evil criminal organizations, and being involved in undercover espionage. Just thinking about his new job at Q-branch made Quinlen’s heart to an excited little flip – he’d only just been working at MI6 long enough to warrant vacation time, and was both relieved and secretly sad that he didn’t know enough about MI6 business to warrant excess watching now that he was out in the world. Working for the technical help department eventually got pretty dull, even when he now fixed gadgetry within the vaunted halls of MI6. By now he had ‘tourist’ written all over him in neon, but at least he was finally on vacation.įor a workaholic like Quinlen, his hatred for traveling wasn’t much of a hindrance until he truly got stir-crazy. Others going from ship to land giggle at him, and he put on a weak smile and waved gamely back. As he disembarked on French soil, the boffin wobbled on his accursed ‘sea legs’ and leaned up against his rolling luggage. Planes were unbearable, but really, voyage by sea wasn’t much better – Quinlen Fluke hated both, to varying degrees. My Favourite 00Q, BestOfTheBestFanfics, The Special Collection, My Heart Adores, Fan Fiction Addiction, 00Q, Primus Inter Pares, Re-Re-Re-Read, Very good Fanfiction, Shady James Bond Faves, My loves <3, I Would Pay Money For These, rel'isé Stats: Published: Completed: Words: 88045 Chapters: 17/17 Comments: 1444 Kudos: 6041 Bookmarks: 1921 Hits: 112640 Nobodies knows that they all work together at MI6.
Certain agents feeling bad about drugging certain boffins.
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