"Good." He gestures towards wherever the tea and tea-things are kept and slowly makes his way to the sofa. There are big soft cushions and it's clearly where he prefers to spend a good deal of his time. Wincing as he settles in, Q can't help the noise of relief once he's in place with a hotpack on the worst of his aches.

The only way it would be better would be if Bond was right beside him. (Not that he'd say such a thing and the pills don't work quite so fast that the thought will easily escape.)