Does he see? Well then, hopefully he enjoys a wide range of bruises, clearly some old scar tissue, and a smattering of ink. Q is certainly keeping an eye on Bond's forearms mood.

"I'd loan you something, but I think you'd stretch it out. I refuse to allow your shoulders in my good shirts." He accepts the utensils and goes to sit at the table. It's a proper beef stew, with sides, and various veg. There's even two slices of pastry for desert. "If you really want, I think there's a pair of sweatpants that are hilariously oversized lurking in the back of a closet."

Men's sweatpants. That don't belong to Q.