You know my name

Much as Bond might have liked to have gone drinking and wenching last night, he had not.

This had not been because of the copious amounts of lace cravats, stockings, and rather silly hats his wardrobe suddenly contained. They mightn't have been to his taste, but he'd worn stranger in his time.

It was because of the long, luxurious, locks he was currently unsuccessfully trying to hack off with a letter opener. A man had his dignity after all.

[ooc: Door is closed. Post is wide, wide open.]

The air in Bond's office was a little less repressed than usual, not that he'd admit it was mostly due to the night he'd had, and despite the way he was focused on his computer, Bond seemed almost ready to jump out of his skin at the slightest disturbance.

Not that he was in any mood for it.

[Door's closed, post's open.]