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section7mfuNapoleon and Illya winced in sympathy as they watched Mark Slate negotiate his crutches around the commissary tables. He’d recently had his tibia broken in an altercation with a THRUSH goon.
“We should get medals for this job,” he moaned, as he sat down. “What’s that one the U.S. military give to the wounded?”
“The Purple Heart,” Solo told him. “I’m afraid, thanks to our Russian friend here, the idea is unfeasible.”
“What do you mean?” Illya asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“With your injury list, manufacturing the medals would be a full time industry. UNCLE couldn’t afford it.”
.
“We should get medals for this job,” he moaned, as he sat down. “What’s that one the U.S. military give to the wounded?”
“The Purple Heart,” Solo told him. “I’m afraid, thanks to our Russian friend here, the idea is unfeasible.”
“What do you mean?” Illya asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“With your injury list, manufacturing the medals would be a full time industry. UNCLE couldn’t afford it.”
.
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Date: 2015-06-10 11:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-06-10 05:55 pm (UTC)