I just can't help myself (SGA/football/lotrips/James Bond/HP -- did I miss anything out?)

[lobelia321]

1.
The phone rang.

Dr Rodney McKay, Director of Research of the Astrophysics Division of Starlight Enterprises with its headquarters in Toronto, Ontario, snatched up the receiver.

"Yes, yes?" he snapped into its grey bakelite mouth. (It was an original retro handset, manufactured in Germany in 1972, purchased from the Director's private funds on e-bay for the sum of 132 euros in a fierce, early-morning bidding battle.)

"Mr Mortensen here to see you. With a Mr... hang on a mo." Miss Moneypenny's muffled voice ruffled the intercom. She was quite clearly talking to someone while covering up her mouthpiece, and someone else was talking back, and Rodney McKay was left impatiently tapping his beechwood table-top with one hand while the other hovered over the touchpad of his laptop.

This was the best fringe benefit of the bakelite phone: its banana-shaped, curvaceous mouthpiece which could be effortlessly tucked into the crook of one's neck, leaving both hands free to do whatever.

There was only the minor discomfort of the spiralling telephone cord getting in the way of one's keyboard fingers.

"With a Mr..." Miss Monepenny pronounced the words with exaggeration. "A Mister dos Santos Aveiro."

"Dos Who Who? What do they want?"

"It's your ten o'clock appointment. It's on your calendar; didn't you check?"

Oh crap. The sponsoring people. "Can't you put them off? I'm busy with important things!"

"We've already put them off fourteen times, Dr M," fluted Miss Moneypenny. Rodney had no idea why she insisted on addressing him as 'Dr M', or sometimes even just as 'M'. He suspected some elaborate receptionist's insider joke.

"Okay, okay," he said, annoyed but resigned, and clipped his laptop shut. Wouldn't do to leave sensitive information displayed for all and sundry to peruse. "Send him in. But why's he got this Mr Who de Who with him? Can't he wait outside?"

"Oh," crooned Miss Moneypenny and giggled. "I'd love to detain him here with me. But I'm afraid that won't be feasible. He's here for the photoshoot with you. The ad campaign."

Oh double crap. "They have until 10.20!" Rodney barked. "Max!"

"Wait until you see him," gurgled Miss Moneypenny.

TO BE CONTINUED