Harem Envy - 25 Days of Christmas
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section7mfu“They got to Napoleon.”
Illya’s blunt announcement brought Faustina to her feet. “How did it happen?”
“A woman, what else?”
She ignored the slight, following as he rushed back out the room. “Is he--?”
“I don't know. I can’t locate him.”
They burst though the door to find the office empty. Cards were strewn across the desk. Faustina rifled through them. “Nothing. Maybe it didn't beach the fail-safe?”
Illya shook his head. He pulled something from the waste basket and handed it to Faustina. The photograph was torn through the middle, deliberately bisecting a familiar, smiling face.
“Let's kill him,” she growled.
“Which one?”
“Does it matter?” She threw the Christmas card back into the trash. “Shall we start at the top or bottom?”
“Bottom. On the way, we’ll make sure reception does not to let him pass.”
They finally ran Napoleon to ground in Accounting. He had a giggling pair of brunettes on one arm, a blonde and a redhead on the other. Illya indicated the blonde with a toss of his chin. “That's the one. She circumvented all our security measures and managed to get her hands on his Christmas cards before we did.”
“Clever little thing,” Faustina purred, her narrowed gaze promising retribution.
Napoleon greeted them with a satisfied grin. “Faustina, just the person we wanted to see. I have a limo arranged and reservations for six at The Rainbow Room.”
Faustina sighed in resignation. As she opened her mouth to accept, Illya intervened. “Sorry, but we already have plans this evening.”
“Yes, sorry,” she echoed, barely missing a beat.
Napoleon’s disappointment was short-lived. Their blonde nemesis whispered in his ear, and his smile widened. “Onward to Legal and the fair Janice,” he declared, shepherding his harem away. The last to reach the door, he turned and let his gaze sweep his fellow agents in speculation. Then he winked and departed.
Faustina turned to Illya. “I thought we were saving him from himself? Isn't that what Operation Out With Flint’s been all about?”
“I refuse to continue this holiday tradition: your breaking up four-way catfights in New York's finest establishments, my dragging Napoleon to a safe house for 48 hours until the cries for his blood abate. If he wants to try to keep up with Derek Flint, let the great Derek Flint rescue him.”
She rubbed her eyes. "I'd rather not be around when this particular train wrecks.”
“I agree. The DC office has been after me to lead a seminar on new techniques in bomb diffusal. I think I just became available.”
“Could you use a lovely assistant?” she inquired.
Illya smiled. “It's not normally part of my presentation, but I’m sure I can work you in.”
Three days later
“Have you seen his eye?” Illya asked, as he entered her office.
“Yes. It's like ‘a sunrise by Maxfield Parrish.’ And I heard those two brunettes put in for transfers.”
“Mr. Waverly's not very happy about all this.” Illya sighed. “Only twelve short months until Christmas card season starts again.”
Faustina pulled a pad and pencil from her desk. “Then we’d better start planning.”
Illya’s blunt announcement brought Faustina to her feet. “How did it happen?”
“A woman, what else?”
She ignored the slight, following as he rushed back out the room. “Is he--?”
“I don't know. I can’t locate him.”
They burst though the door to find the office empty. Cards were strewn across the desk. Faustina rifled through them. “Nothing. Maybe it didn't beach the fail-safe?”
Illya shook his head. He pulled something from the waste basket and handed it to Faustina. The photograph was torn through the middle, deliberately bisecting a familiar, smiling face.
“Let's kill him,” she growled.
“Which one?”
“Does it matter?” She threw the Christmas card back into the trash. “Shall we start at the top or bottom?”
“Bottom. On the way, we’ll make sure reception does not to let him pass.”
They finally ran Napoleon to ground in Accounting. He had a giggling pair of brunettes on one arm, a blonde and a redhead on the other. Illya indicated the blonde with a toss of his chin. “That's the one. She circumvented all our security measures and managed to get her hands on his Christmas cards before we did.”
“Clever little thing,” Faustina purred, her narrowed gaze promising retribution.
Napoleon greeted them with a satisfied grin. “Faustina, just the person we wanted to see. I have a limo arranged and reservations for six at The Rainbow Room.”
Faustina sighed in resignation. As she opened her mouth to accept, Illya intervened. “Sorry, but we already have plans this evening.”
“Yes, sorry,” she echoed, barely missing a beat.
Napoleon’s disappointment was short-lived. Their blonde nemesis whispered in his ear, and his smile widened. “Onward to Legal and the fair Janice,” he declared, shepherding his harem away. The last to reach the door, he turned and let his gaze sweep his fellow agents in speculation. Then he winked and departed.
Faustina turned to Illya. “I thought we were saving him from himself? Isn't that what Operation Out With Flint’s been all about?”
“I refuse to continue this holiday tradition: your breaking up four-way catfights in New York's finest establishments, my dragging Napoleon to a safe house for 48 hours until the cries for his blood abate. If he wants to try to keep up with Derek Flint, let the great Derek Flint rescue him.”
She rubbed her eyes. "I'd rather not be around when this particular train wrecks.”
“I agree. The DC office has been after me to lead a seminar on new techniques in bomb diffusal. I think I just became available.”
“Could you use a lovely assistant?” she inquired.
Illya smiled. “It's not normally part of my presentation, but I’m sure I can work you in.”
Three days later
“Have you seen his eye?” Illya asked, as he entered her office.
“Yes. It's like ‘a sunrise by Maxfield Parrish.’ And I heard those two brunettes put in for transfers.”
“Mr. Waverly's not very happy about all this.” Illya sighed. “Only twelve short months until Christmas card season starts again.”
Faustina pulled a pad and pencil from her desk. “Then we’d better start planning.”
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Date: 2015-12-03 10:18 am (UTC)