Q had no idea that later this evening he'd find himself trapped in an inescapable hell, and as a result was quite happy to play the part of Bond's plus one at the party that felt just a bit too posh for a boffin like him. He'd come dressed as a plague doctor. A morbid choice, but a good way to hide his face. Bond may have been glad to put himself on display, but Q wasn't so eager to be noticed. Not on home turf at least.

Except Bond had wandered off, and Q had found himself alone near the bar, trying to decide if a drink was worth removing his mask.

"I really hope not," he sighed, slightly paranoid that Bond's disappearance meant he was off doing something he definitely shouldn't be.