"Not entirely no," Q has to admit. "But surely it's far better now than it was. Class distinctions aren't so stringent." Q grimaces at the mention of the staffroom. His last memories of it are far from pleasant. He'd tried to avoid it as much as possible, mostly by pleading a headache, which at least had the advantage of not being a lie. He sighs. He looks at Severus, astonished at first, then with a grin. He can't resist. "Yeth Marther. Whatever you thay Marther." He ducks his head servilely.
"Ah," he says, concentrating very hard on the orange. "Ordinarily, I'd ask you to remember me to her. But as it is..." he breaks off, scowling as he finishes up his peeling. "Ah", he says again. "That would be me then. The tedious bit. If that's all right with you Severus?"