"That's right," Q snaps his fingers. "And here's me forgetting," he taps his forehead. "And it has been a long time."
"Very well then," Q says promptly. "I apologise. Oh no," he goes on, torn between horror and glee. "That's really not on." He clears his throat. "Yes, well, um," he's at a complete loss for words. "If I ever see her again, I'll apologise to her as well."
Q opens his mouth to protest but closes it at Severus' upraised hand. "I just wanted to prove I was right for the job," he mumbles, staring at his hands.
"Did you?" Q shakes his head. "Really, I had no idea. I am sorry Severus. I think you would have been a wonderful defense teacher." He grins. "You don't get sidetracked as I tend to do." Q hesitates a moment. "There's a little shop in town that sells beer-brewing supplies. I can show you where it is if you'd like?"
"I rest my case," Q tells him fervently. "I know," he hangs his head. I've heard...things from others. It really doesn't make me feel any better however." He blows out an explosive breath. "You've got it of course. You never have to ask Severus. But I could use a drink and I don't mean tea." He stands up. "Does the professor keep spirits in the house?"