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Q receives the first post card about a week and a half after sending out James to Romania. It features a brightly coloured street bathed in sunlight and a cheerful 'wish you were here' in bold lettering.
Flipped over it reads: "Having fun in the sun, send my love to the cats."
It goes into the draw with the rest, and Q thinks little of it other than the fond smile on his face.
The second card comes two weeks later, dog-eared by the postal system. It's a gaudy drawing of a boat decked out in bunting, bobbing merrily on still blue water. There's a smiling girl waving from its decks.
On the back it reads: "Fun in the sun!" followed by a smilie face.
It has a small smear of something dark red, verging on brown, in the corner. Q doubts that's from the postal service.
This one makes its way onto Q's trinket shelf, propped between some strange crystal orb from 0011 and a rag doll Q made in Uni that's often moved around his flat by a spy who thinks he's funny.
The third card comes almost three weeks later. It's a generic beach with impossibly blue water, golden sand and palm trees.
On the other side is a biro drawing of a church, rendered in glorious sketchy detail, and an address neatly penned underneath.
This one is scanned in and sent to M, the hard copy joining many other in Q's draws.
It's a nail-biting month until the next one. A fortnight since coms had picked up a string of curses and gone dark. This one isn't of a place but instead a Cage the Elephant album cover. There's a smiley on the back of this one too, but it's not all that reassuring.
Three weeks later there's one last post card. It features another sunny beach, oversaturated colours bringing an immense sense of relief. It boasts a banner saying Casablanca.
The back says a simple but ominous "Good things come to those who wait."
At least Q now knows where to look. Too bad he won't have any luck finding his missing agent. Too bad it’s a flicker of hope followed by months of silence and worry.
Over two months later, one more card is put through his letter box.
This one is a sketch of a boat, tasteful and understated. It too has smudges of dark red, almost brown, flaking off the gloss of the print and soaked into the matte paper surrounding the message. It's accompanied by what look like smudges of charcoal. Q knows it’s from James because he can run the partial print left in deeply unsettling red; he knows he should be more perturbed by that method of identification but any feelings over that are drowned out by those about the message.
"Don't tell Mum, but this holiday was a bad idea."
What has he got himself into this time? Q sighs and tries to take a few calming breaths. They don't work but it’s the thought that counts. He's got work to do.