Usurped - A Little Drabble Do Ya! - Sept 23rd

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Illya Kuryakin was a man who rarely allowed his thoughts and emotions to be known to anyone. Today, however, his body language was broadcasting clearly enough for anyone to read. He sat in the commissary, with his shoulders slumped, and his face etched with abject anguish.

“It was bound to happen eventually, Tovarisch,” Napoleon stated. “It couldn’t really last forever.”

The Russian had received the distressing news only twenty minutes previously. Since then, Napoleon had tried and failed to console the man.

“You’ll just have to accept it, Illya,” he continued. “Your Survival School scores are no longer the best.”