Q casts a brief, envious glance at the book, then pulls a notebook and biro from his pouch and begins taking notes. He's always thought that writing with a quill was an unnecessarily cumbersome affectation of Wizard-kind. He can always transfigure pen and paper if it causes a problem. "The 'work' being what?" he asks looking up.
Q looks properly awed, then puzzled. "Er no, not at all." He rubs the back of his head. "Actually, the shop-keeper was going to give it to me, but I insisted on paying." He frowns. "It was very odd you know, that book shop."