For all of his desire to push forward with technology and advance and improve things, Q is infinitely fascinated by the past, by an age when they had not half of the things they have now. The 1930s, when the real spies lived, when espionage and networks were things that were gorgeous and intricate and please his brain to read about. So he's excited to be able to speak to someone from then, someone so obviously unversed in the modern technologies that it's refreshing. And his name- Q recognises it the way one recognises a smell from years ago, from infancy, and it triggers memories that can't quite be reached-
He is, as usual, reluctant to leave Samir. Another day and night spent in bed with him and it's becoming habit. Waking up beside him, skin touching skin. He kisses him before he gets up, kisses the side of his nose and then the corner of his lips and whispers that he'll be back soon because he really will. Either for them to eat and go their separate ways or eat and go back to bed.
And then Q dresses, underwear, trousers, shirt, Samir's jumper because it's on hand. A little too big for him but it's warm. He puts on his glasses, because it's early and he needs to focus.
The cold air bites at him as soon as he steps out onto the roof, his eyes drawn away over the city with the lights that are burning in various shops and buildings, the streetlights, the hospital-
His gaze finally lands on the man he has come up to meet. Q's stomach twists, initially because he's sitting on the edge of the roof and Q has terrible vertigo, but also because it is as though he is staring across at himself. Of course he's seen this happen already, with Samir and Mitchell to name just one example, but it doesn't prepare him for the almost giddy feeling, or the odd warmth that settles around him.
Q steps forward, his feet light across the rooftop. "Robert. Hello."