"How's the novel getting along?"
"Huh, oh… well it's getting. Sort of." Napoleon wished he'd never mentioned the idea of writing a novel. Illya expected people to carry through with what they stated as intentions.
"So, any new languages for you Illya?" Stupid. Why did he ask that?
"As a matter of fact…' Napoleon groaned out loud.
"You did ask. Do you not wish to know?"
"Illya, I will write. I'm just not, you know… inspired at the moment."
"Oh. I am not judging you my friend. And, by the way… Hebrew."
"Mossad agents are coming to visit."