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section7mfu“What is that?” Illya asked, gesturing to the box Napoleon set on his desk.
“It’s a game for the Christmas party.” Napoleon turned the box to give Illya a better view.
“Twister,” Illya read. “’The game that ties you up in knots.’”
"It’s new. The game board is a mat on the floor, and the players are the pieces.”
“Like human chess.”
“Ahhh, not exactly.” Napoleon opened the box and held up the spinner. “This decides where each player places a hand or foot on the mat. Then everyone gets tangled in a knot. See?”
“I see. Sounds very dignified.”
Napoleon restored the spinner and closed the lid. “The perennial Christmas party trade-off: the more dignity one is willing to set aside, the more enjoyment one will experience.”
“And does one presume others are willing to make this trade-off?”
“One does.” Napoleon pulled a list from the inner pocket of his jacket. “I've been lining up teams for a tournament.”
“Co-ed?” Illya asked, rolling his eyes.
“Of course. I've got seven teams so far, including Wanda and myself. April just sent Mark out to get a set so they can start practicing.” Napoleon took a pen from the desk. “I'm putting you down for team number eight.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Napoleon looked crestfallen. “Where's your Christmas spirit?”
“Not in that box.”
“There must be some pretty thing around here you'd like to get tied up in knots with?”
"With whom I'd like to get tied in knots,” Illya corrected.
"Precisely. I've marked you down, but I've left the partner blank for now.”
“Napoleon, it will be a cold day in Hell before I play in this tournament.”
“That sounds like insubordination,” Napoleon said, then pointed the pen at himself. “Two years seniority, remember.”
“That has no bearing on this situation.”
“Hmmm. We’ll see.” Napoleon grinned and tucked the box under his arm. As he left the office, he called over his shoulder, “I'd start limbering up, if I were you.”
“It’s a game for the Christmas party.” Napoleon turned the box to give Illya a better view.
“Twister,” Illya read. “’The game that ties you up in knots.’”
"It’s new. The game board is a mat on the floor, and the players are the pieces.”
“Like human chess.”
“Ahhh, not exactly.” Napoleon opened the box and held up the spinner. “This decides where each player places a hand or foot on the mat. Then everyone gets tangled in a knot. See?”
“I see. Sounds very dignified.”
Napoleon restored the spinner and closed the lid. “The perennial Christmas party trade-off: the more dignity one is willing to set aside, the more enjoyment one will experience.”
“And does one presume others are willing to make this trade-off?”
“One does.” Napoleon pulled a list from the inner pocket of his jacket. “I've been lining up teams for a tournament.”
“Co-ed?” Illya asked, rolling his eyes.
“Of course. I've got seven teams so far, including Wanda and myself. April just sent Mark out to get a set so they can start practicing.” Napoleon took a pen from the desk. “I'm putting you down for team number eight.”
“You’ll do no such thing.”
Napoleon looked crestfallen. “Where's your Christmas spirit?”
“Not in that box.”
“There must be some pretty thing around here you'd like to get tied up in knots with?”
"With whom I'd like to get tied in knots,” Illya corrected.
"Precisely. I've marked you down, but I've left the partner blank for now.”
“Napoleon, it will be a cold day in Hell before I play in this tournament.”
“That sounds like insubordination,” Napoleon said, then pointed the pen at himself. “Two years seniority, remember.”
“That has no bearing on this situation.”
“Hmmm. We’ll see.” Napoleon grinned and tucked the box under his arm. As he left the office, he called over his shoulder, “I'd start limbering up, if I were you.”
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Date: 2015-12-08 12:59 pm (UTC)BTW, may I friend you?
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Date: 2015-12-08 01:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-12-08 02:30 pm (UTC)