Challenge: The Short Affair
Jul. 28th, 2015 10:39 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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section7mfuPrompt Word #1 - Traffic
Prompt Colour – White
Word Count-approx. 780
Sorry. I'm a day behind.
Human Kindness
It was asunny afternoon sunny, sweltering afternoon. To say the day was simply a “scorcher” was to do a disservice to the word. The heat was searing and penetrating; the kind of temperature that sucked the life right out of you and cooked eggs on the blacktop. It was a record breaker. Did I mention it was hot?
Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were singing the praises of the U.N.C.L.E. mechanics who maintained the ‘60 Chevy Corvair sedan they were using today. The air conditioning unit worked like a charm keeping the enforcement agents pleasantly cool. They were returning home from a successful assignment when they noticed a disabled red VW Beetle pulled off the highway ahead. A woman dressed in a white sleeveless blouse and light pink short-shorts was waving her arms trying to flag down any passerby.
“Looks like a pretty damsel in distress in need of our friendly road-side services, partner mine.” Traffic was surprisingly light today as Napoleon signaled and safely swung their car off the road to pull up behind her. Illya rolled his eyes even though they were hidden under his mirrored aviator sunglasses. He knew what his partner meant; Napoleon would wind up wooing said damsel while Illya did all the actual work, as usual.
Both agents exited the vehicle and were immediately blasted with the oppressive heat once again. They approached the woman cautiously; after all, anyone could be the enemy until proven otherwise. She was indeed pretty and in her late twenties with a look of desperation on her face. It was obvious she was unarmed, as there was nowhere to hide a weapon in that outfit.
“Thank you for your help, gentlemen. I’ve been stuck here for at least ten minutes and no one’s bothered to stop and give me a hand.”
“That’s a shame. We’re delighted to offer whatever assistance you require.” Napoleon flashed one of his legendary smiles.
She returned one of her own. “I’m Samantha, with a flat tire.”
“Hi Samantha with a flat tire. Napoleon Solo, at your service, and this is-”
“... Illya Kuryakin,” his partner interrupted. “Also at your service.” He was sweltering already in his black suit jacket. He’d have liked to remove it, but his shoulder holster and Walther might have frightened the young lady, so he and Napoleon left their jackets on in spite of the heat.
“I have a spare but haven’t the slightest clue as to how to go about changing it. I’m so sorry to have to ask you to do this for me in this awful weather.” She whipped her long, braided ponytail to the side before she spoke again. “Generally I’d call the auto club but as you can see, there’s no phone available.” Her face, arms and legs were covered with a sheen of perspiration.
Illya moved impatiently to the front of the car and opened the storage compartment, wanting to change the flat quickly and get out of the sun. He removed the spare tire, jack and wrench. With the unsettling feeling that his feet were sinking into the asphalt, he pushed his sleeves back and knelt to change out the flat. By the time his task was completed, his body and clothing were grimy and drenched with sweat.
So where was Napoleon? Seated comfortably in the air-cooled Chevy, chatting with Samantha.
Well, it’s hardly a two-man job. Illya sighed. Truthfully, he didn’t mind helping out, but he’d never admit that to Solo.
After being duly thanked and with their goodbyes said, both vehicles were back on the road. “Next time we stop to assist a stranded motorist, you can do the grunt work while I rest in the car,” Illya groused.
Napoleon grinned. “Oh I don’t know. That wasn’t so bad, was it? I couldn’t leave her sit alone in our car now, could I?”
Another eye roll.
“Chin up Illya.” He nodded with a wink. “Samantha gave each of us her card. She’s a chef with her own restaurant in Manhattan. We’ll have to drop in sometime.”
The blond wiped his brow and hands with his once clean handkerchief. “I can see that”, he said as he scanned the business card he’d found when he climbed back into his seat. He flipped it over, smiled broadly and read aloud what was written there.
“Illya, please allow me the honor of preparing a private dinner for the two of us. A small token of my gratitude for the human kindness you’ve shown me this day. Call me, Sam.”
“What?” Solo’s eyebrows formed a frown as he quickly read the back of his own card. Thank you for stopping.
Prompt Colour – White
Word Count-approx. 780
Sorry. I'm a day behind.
Human Kindness
It was a
Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were singing the praises of the U.N.C.L.E. mechanics who maintained the ‘60 Chevy Corvair sedan they were using today. The air conditioning unit worked like a charm keeping the enforcement agents pleasantly cool. They were returning home from a successful assignment when they noticed a disabled red VW Beetle pulled off the highway ahead. A woman dressed in a white sleeveless blouse and light pink short-shorts was waving her arms trying to flag down any passerby.
“Looks like a pretty damsel in distress in need of our friendly road-side services, partner mine.” Traffic was surprisingly light today as Napoleon signaled and safely swung their car off the road to pull up behind her. Illya rolled his eyes even though they were hidden under his mirrored aviator sunglasses. He knew what his partner meant; Napoleon would wind up wooing said damsel while Illya did all the actual work, as usual.
Both agents exited the vehicle and were immediately blasted with the oppressive heat once again. They approached the woman cautiously; after all, anyone could be the enemy until proven otherwise. She was indeed pretty and in her late twenties with a look of desperation on her face. It was obvious she was unarmed, as there was nowhere to hide a weapon in that outfit.
“Thank you for your help, gentlemen. I’ve been stuck here for at least ten minutes and no one’s bothered to stop and give me a hand.”
“That’s a shame. We’re delighted to offer whatever assistance you require.” Napoleon flashed one of his legendary smiles.
She returned one of her own. “I’m Samantha, with a flat tire.”
“Hi Samantha with a flat tire. Napoleon Solo, at your service, and this is-”
“... Illya Kuryakin,” his partner interrupted. “Also at your service.” He was sweltering already in his black suit jacket. He’d have liked to remove it, but his shoulder holster and Walther might have frightened the young lady, so he and Napoleon left their jackets on in spite of the heat.
“I have a spare but haven’t the slightest clue as to how to go about changing it. I’m so sorry to have to ask you to do this for me in this awful weather.” She whipped her long, braided ponytail to the side before she spoke again. “Generally I’d call the auto club but as you can see, there’s no phone available.” Her face, arms and legs were covered with a sheen of perspiration.
Illya moved impatiently to the front of the car and opened the storage compartment, wanting to change the flat quickly and get out of the sun. He removed the spare tire, jack and wrench. With the unsettling feeling that his feet were sinking into the asphalt, he pushed his sleeves back and knelt to change out the flat. By the time his task was completed, his body and clothing were grimy and drenched with sweat.
So where was Napoleon? Seated comfortably in the air-cooled Chevy, chatting with Samantha.
Well, it’s hardly a two-man job. Illya sighed. Truthfully, he didn’t mind helping out, but he’d never admit that to Solo.
After being duly thanked and with their goodbyes said, both vehicles were back on the road. “Next time we stop to assist a stranded motorist, you can do the grunt work while I rest in the car,” Illya groused.
Napoleon grinned. “Oh I don’t know. That wasn’t so bad, was it? I couldn’t leave her sit alone in our car now, could I?”
Another eye roll.
“Chin up Illya.” He nodded with a wink. “Samantha gave each of us her card. She’s a chef with her own restaurant in Manhattan. We’ll have to drop in sometime.”
The blond wiped his brow and hands with his once clean handkerchief. “I can see that”, he said as he scanned the business card he’d found when he climbed back into his seat. He flipped it over, smiled broadly and read aloud what was written there.
“Illya, please allow me the honor of preparing a private dinner for the two of us. A small token of my gratitude for the human kindness you’ve shown me this day. Call me, Sam.”
“What?” Solo’s eyebrows formed a frown as he quickly read the back of his own card. Thank you for stopping.
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Date: 2015-07-28 02:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 03:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 04:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 04:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 06:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 06:06 pm (UTC)Also, I love the heat description. It's very well done, and in a NZ winter most enjoyable. The '60 Chevy Corvair is a good, solid touch.
Samantha-the-cat agrees that Samantha is a greeat name choice for a charming and and intellent character.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 06:10 pm (UTC)Great tale.
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Date: 2015-07-28 06:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 08:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 08:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 08:59 pm (UTC)I used to drive an aqua '57 Chevy so I'm partial to that brand. Chevrolet was a sponsor for the show for a few years if I remember correctly.
Give Samantha-the-cat a kitty kiss from my Bellatrix La Strange. Oops, wrong fandom.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 09:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 09:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-28 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-29 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-29 04:04 pm (UTC)I'm not convinced this piece is brilliant, but thank you.