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section7mfuContinued from Part 1. Also relates to events here.
Illya joined Faustina in the elevator and fumed silently.
“Welcome back, Faustina. Thank you, Illya. How was Hong Kong? The Chinese turned the water off again. Sounds dreadful. At least THRUSH was just as uncomfortable as we were.”
Her imitation of him failed to elicit even the ghost of a smile. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Illya held out a folded sheet of paper and a tiny cone of red velvet and white fur.
Faustina recognized the miniature Santa hat of her own making. “Where's Moby?” she asked warily.
“A Christmas hostage,” Illya hissed.
“What?” Faustina snatched the paper from his hand and began to read. “Captain Ahab, Your lobster has generously volunteered to be a prize in the Twister Tournament. If you plan to win him back, I suggest you choose a partner or get knotted. Ishmael.” She looked up in surprise. “Napoleon?”
“Who else? I'd keelhaul him, only he’s made himself scarce.” They stepped from the elevator and headed down the corridor.
“Twister Tournament. So that's what he was going on about. As it was 3am Hong Kong time, the call ended rather abruptly.”
“With his being stuffed in drawer after getting a piece of your mind?”
She nodded. “In a few colorful Cantonese phrases I'd just acquired. So what brought about these Mafia tactics?”
“I declined to participate in his shenanigans.”
“Well, some are born to shenanigans, and some have shenanigans thrust upon them.” Her lips twitched.
“I fail to see what's so funny.”
They arrived at her office. Faustina tossed her hat and purse on the desk, then froze. “Where's Benjamin?”
A small elf hat of green velvet, complete with tiny bell, lay on the desk next to a folded paper. Illya picked it up. “It's a list of the teams, and there's a note at the bottom. ‘Tsk. Tsk. They don't allow that kind of language on the airwaves. Illya needs a partner. Benjamin will be watching the tournament and expects you to make a good showing.’” He raised his brows at her. “Still think it's funny?”
Faustina wasn't listening. She dialed the phone. “This is Pemberley. I want a tray of fruit and danish sent up, and fresh coffee on the hour. For lunch, two turkey sandwich platters. Thank you.”
She hung up the phone and began digging in the desk, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“I wish you'd take this more seriously,” he complained.
“I take my holiday hijinks very seriously. That's why we're having a council of war.”
He watched her tape sheets of paper to the wall. “Are we going to sabotage the tournament?”
“No, we're going to win it.”
"And if I categorically refuse?”
“Then I'll win Moby, and we’ll need to discuss visitation rights.”
They locked gazes. Illya finally sighed. “I want it on record that I'm doing this under duress.”
“Let the record so reflect.” She wrote their names side by side on the central sheet, then tapped the marker to her lips. “As I see it, this isn't just a game of physical skill but of psychology. So the key to winning will be knowing our opponents and knowing ourselves.”
“Sun Tzu,” he said, appreciatively.
“We write down what we know and find out the rest. Likes, dislikes, fears, fetishes, allergies, anything we can use to our advantage.”
“’Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt,’” he quoted. “Finally my sort of shenanigans.”
Illya joined Faustina in the elevator and fumed silently.
“Welcome back, Faustina. Thank you, Illya. How was Hong Kong? The Chinese turned the water off again. Sounds dreadful. At least THRUSH was just as uncomfortable as we were.”
Her imitation of him failed to elicit even the ghost of a smile. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
Illya held out a folded sheet of paper and a tiny cone of red velvet and white fur.
Faustina recognized the miniature Santa hat of her own making. “Where's Moby?” she asked warily.
“A Christmas hostage,” Illya hissed.
“What?” Faustina snatched the paper from his hand and began to read. “Captain Ahab, Your lobster has generously volunteered to be a prize in the Twister Tournament. If you plan to win him back, I suggest you choose a partner or get knotted. Ishmael.” She looked up in surprise. “Napoleon?”
“Who else? I'd keelhaul him, only he’s made himself scarce.” They stepped from the elevator and headed down the corridor.
“Twister Tournament. So that's what he was going on about. As it was 3am Hong Kong time, the call ended rather abruptly.”
“With his being stuffed in drawer after getting a piece of your mind?”
She nodded. “In a few colorful Cantonese phrases I'd just acquired. So what brought about these Mafia tactics?”
“I declined to participate in his shenanigans.”
“Well, some are born to shenanigans, and some have shenanigans thrust upon them.” Her lips twitched.
“I fail to see what's so funny.”
They arrived at her office. Faustina tossed her hat and purse on the desk, then froze. “Where's Benjamin?”
A small elf hat of green velvet, complete with tiny bell, lay on the desk next to a folded paper. Illya picked it up. “It's a list of the teams, and there's a note at the bottom. ‘Tsk. Tsk. They don't allow that kind of language on the airwaves. Illya needs a partner. Benjamin will be watching the tournament and expects you to make a good showing.’” He raised his brows at her. “Still think it's funny?”
Faustina wasn't listening. She dialed the phone. “This is Pemberley. I want a tray of fruit and danish sent up, and fresh coffee on the hour. For lunch, two turkey sandwich platters. Thank you.”
She hung up the phone and began digging in the desk, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.
“I wish you'd take this more seriously,” he complained.
“I take my holiday hijinks very seriously. That's why we're having a council of war.”
He watched her tape sheets of paper to the wall. “Are we going to sabotage the tournament?”
“No, we're going to win it.”
"And if I categorically refuse?”
“Then I'll win Moby, and we’ll need to discuss visitation rights.”
They locked gazes. Illya finally sighed. “I want it on record that I'm doing this under duress.”
“Let the record so reflect.” She wrote their names side by side on the central sheet, then tapped the marker to her lips. “As I see it, this isn't just a game of physical skill but of psychology. So the key to winning will be knowing our opponents and knowing ourselves.”
“Sun Tzu,” he said, appreciatively.
“We write down what we know and find out the rest. Likes, dislikes, fears, fetishes, allergies, anything we can use to our advantage.”
“’Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt,’” he quoted. “Finally my sort of shenanigans.”
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