"It's okay, it's okay. Don't worry yourself," he insisted, running a hand up and down his back, surprisingly gentle and comforting. Of course Q was in shock. It was unreasonable of him to expect him to give him instant answers. This was a terrible role-reversal. He would never have wished for Q to be the one needing rescue. It wasn't the way that things were meant to be.
The hand in his is unexpected, but pleasant. The affection is unfamiliar. Of course, it is an extreme situation, but he could get used to such tender affection. Easily.
He gave him a nod of understanding, and lifted a cigarette packet from his pocket with his free hand. "No, I would be just the same," he insisted with a smile. He flipped the pack open, and pulled out a cigarette using his mouth. With it hanging unlit from his lips, he replaced the packet and pulled out a lighter. He lit the cigarette, then pulled it from his mouth and passed it over, ready to smoke. All so he didn't have to let go of his hand.