Luncheon...

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

With Alexander Waverly’s approval a selection of Christmas music was piped into the Commissary at lunch time, getting things off to a festive start.  A monitor had been installed with a louping image of a crackling fireplace playing...in living color no less. It was an attempt to warm up figuratively that is, the sometimes cold and sterile grey walls of headquarters.

The Old Man was going all out this year to see that his people would enjoy the holidays. THRUSH's uspoken truce and cessation of their activities for the month of December was a welcome respite, though there were other evil doers out in the world that still had to be dealt with from time to time.

There were more smiles on faces than usual as people waited in line for their food. The Christmas spirit was in the air.

Napoleon had gotten there early and was sitting at his usual table in the back corner waiting for Illya to arrive. They’d agreed that a light lunch...well, light to Napoleon, was in order, given how much delicious food was being catered for the party.  He imagined Illya salivating with anticipation; with the Russian’s bottomless pit of a stomach who knew how much he could actually eat. Some people were making bets.

Mark Slate walked over with a helping of lasagna, foregoing the turkey as it would make him too sleepy.  He didn’t want to miss any of the festivities tonight, especially that Twister challenge.

“Say, I saw Illya whispering with George Dennell out in the corridor. Wonder what that’s all about?” Mark asked.

“Really? Hmm, thanks Mark,” Napoleon cocked an eyebrow…

"So what's this Christmas song I hear you made up mate? Heard it has to do with the twelve days of Christmas?"*

"And so it does Mark, but that's for later when the punch and other liquor is flowing."

"Making up for not playing Santa Claus his year huh?"

"Exactly."



* referece to a clever song in Spikegirl's "Twelve Days of Christmas ala Napoleon Solo" story.