[ to say bond is amused would only be half of what he's feeling. he's used to these sorts of missions; highly sensitive cargo needing to be transported, important people needing to be escorted, intel needing to be picked up and dropped off. this particular mission is all of the above in more ways than he'll be admitting anytime soon out loud, though it's nice to have something a bit more low key to do between saving queen and country from its enemies.

so bond sits across from Q on the plane just about as relax as any MI6 agent could be with a martini in his hand. he could have easily gotten enough tranquilisers to get them from point a to point b and back again, but moneypenny had suggested he forego it the first round to get a good taste of just how bad their aviophobic quartermaster was once he hit 30,000ft (though bond would argue the takeoff was the worst of it). ]

It's starting to sound like a better idea.

[ that probably should sound much more annoyed but as james says it over his martini he's practically chuckling. at the very least the alcohol is keeping it entertaining. ]

Are you sure I can't relay the equation for heat transfer that's causing the turbulence back to you? Fascinating stuff.