"Not now, I have a headache." For What's My Line?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Illya Kuryakin cradled his head in his hands while sitting on the edge of his bed in the hotel room he was sharing with his American partner. Directly opposite him on the other bed was Solo, who was grinning ear to ear.

“What’s a matter, did the itty bitty bottle of booze do you in tovarisch?”

“Napoleon why must you yell? I am right here and I will have no trouble hearing you if you just speak in a normal voice.”

“Illya I am speaking in a normal voice.”

“Then why does it sound like you are booming inside an echo chamber?”

“I told you not to try matching Ernie Pennyfeather drink for drink.”

“Why not, I can hold my liquor.”

“Yes you demonstrated that so well tonight” there was a sarcastic tone in his voice,.”but I guess it’s only when the liquor is vodka. You were drinking some local rotgut from the looks of it and it was probably the cheapest brand of liquor they sell in that pub.”

“I have had plenty of such liquor before, as you may recall I have managed quite well drinking your poison of choice, and I have done so on many’s the occasion with you.”

“Excuse me? I do not drink cheap scotch. I most certainly wouldn’t be caught dead drinking that stuff you and Ernie were having.” Solo cringed at the thought. “And dare I say that Ernie’s probably been drinking it for a long time...remember this is his territory.”

“I know, but if you recall I was stationed here in London for three years before transferring to New York, so I am quite familiar with the drinking customs here.”

“Then why did you do it?” Napoleon dug into his shaving kit, pulling out a bottle of Bayer aspirin and offering a couple to his partner.

“It was a matter of pride.”

“What? Since when?”

“Since last time we were here and Ernie challenged me to a drinking contest and I beat him. I had my reputation to uphold.”

“And what did you drink last time?”

Illya dry swallowed the aspirin.”Well it was vodka but…”

“But nothing, how could you possibly expect to out last Ernie this time while drinking gin. I bet he was practically raised on the stuff.”

“Point taken.” Illya moaned, holding his head again. “Please do not mention the word gin again?”

“I won’t, but dare I remind you we have a 5 a.m. wake up call tovarisch? We have a flight to catch back to New York.”

“Tell Mr. Waverly I missed it,”Illya moaned.” No better still, tell him I died.”

Solo laid back on his bed, letting out a real belly laugh at that request.

“Napoleon, could you please be quiet? Or better still, can you just go away? Is there no woman with whom you can go off and spend the night? Really, I want to be alone.”

“Sorry, for once I have no one to wine, dine or bed, so I’m all yours Greta Garbo.”

“How many times have I asked you to turn it off and now when I do not want you to...you do.”  If he could have shaken his head, Illya would, but if he tried he figured he'd need to rush to the loo.

“Huh, what the heck did you just say?”

“Your timing is very bad my friend.”

“What are you on about?” Napoleon was completely confused now.

Illya laid back on his bed, groaning as his head touched the pillow.

“Never mind...”

Comments

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Poor IK, I feel for him. Any gin is swill in my book, but rotgut? Very good use of the prompt.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Why thank you....yeah gin is just nasty; he should have known better.