You know my name

It had been a mistake not investing in a good set of drapes, James decided, as the morning sun slid into his eyes, despite his best efforts to screw them shut. Frowning, he sat up and reached across to the night stand to check what the time was apart from 'far too early'.

Unfortunately, the problem with expensive watches like his was that they all too often had a date feature. Which made cheerful repression just that much more harder. Still frowning, he kept staring at the watch.

[for one, but open to any of the housemates if they want]

In a flash of light, two figures appeared in the the middle of a previously deserted alleyway.

( Sometimes smart people can be very dumb. )

[NFI, Broadcast doesn't really matter since it's up after radio, OOC welcome]

Bond had missed his office hours the day before due to a short head cold, and was holding them today instead.

Of course he seemed more interested playing on his computer than actually working.

Those poor soft toys.

Although his eyes flew open, Bond didn't wake with a start, or melodramatically sit up, gasping and panting. In fact, apart from the light sheen of sweat, there was nothing to indicate he'd had anything other than the soundest, deepest, most comfortable sleep in years. He definitely didn't look like this was the third or fourth time he'd woken for the exact same reason.

Glancing at his clock, seeing the glowing numbers mocking him, he gave up on sleep and got out of bed. He paused only long enough to pull on a pair of shorts before pulling out the bag stored in the small fire safe under his bed. Once at his desk, he ignored most of the bags contents, at least beyond a check that they were all still there and intact, interested only in the slim white phone. Pulling up that final text message, he turned on his computer, trying to access MI6 databanks, only to be stymied once again by whatever it was that that enabled him to be eighteen months in his future, but wouldn't let him contact anyone back in the past. He was certain that M had planned on that too.

Carefully returning the phone to the bag, then the bag to the safe, he stretched back out on the bed, resigned to spending what was left of the night staring at the ceiling.

[Establishly.]