Q nods then clears his throat uncomfortably. "Er, I was. I mean, you're not the only one who thought that." He knows he's not making any real sense, but how could he possibly? "I know I still look about the same. I, um, seemed to have skipped to this time without aging through the intervening years. Except for my head," he adds hastily, touching it again. "That looks quite a lot different."
"Did we?" Q asks helplessly. "I don't remember." He colours. "Er, sorry about that Mr Malfoy."
Q sputters a bit at the bitterness and waves for his own refill. He definitely needs one. "Thanks!" he gasps as a foamy mug is set in front of him. He stops his coughing by taking another drink. "How did you come to be here in Margate? If you don't mind my asking," For all he knows Lucius may not want to tell him. "I'll understand if you don't want to say." His old habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time seems to be working well today. He sighs.