"Knowing when to retreat"~ for What's My Line?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

The prompt: ”What do you mean it's on its way?”

Napoleon’s modus operandi for when it came to wooing women was pretty formulaic. He’d take them out for a nice dinner and maybe dancing afterwards, hopefully to end up back at the lady’s place for something more intimate.

Usually it was an invitation to her apartment for a drink or two, after which the serious necking began, the roaming of hands and finally segueing to her boudoir for a night of passionate love making.

However, he wasn’t always looking for such an invitation. Sometimes he just wanted to enjoy the company, and a little interesting conversation.  Though Illya refused to believe it, Napoleon Solo did not sleep with every woman he dated.

Tonight was such a night.

He’d asked Miranda Cosgrove from the Translation Section out for the evening, taking her to Jacques, one of is favorite French restaurants in the city.

The hazel eyed date was blonde, very attractive and was most definitely gifted in the intelligence category. She spoke a half-dozen languages fluently and was in the process of learning another….Italian. Though there were plenty of translation specialists who already spoke it, she was just taking it upon herself to improve her linguistic repertoire.

That Napoleon found admirable. Being fluent in Italian himself, and after the topic of her learning it came up, he suggested they only speak Italian.  It was after all, considered a romance language. Though the night hadn’t started out along that line, Napoleon was beginning to find Miranda enchanting, and that had awakened his libido.

The conversation went along swimmingly but eventually it began to ebb as did Solo’s amorous feelings. He’d realized that Miranda just wasn’t as interesting as he first thought. That was putting the kybosh on what could have been a great evening.

Her voice began to drone on as she continued speaking in Italian, though it seemed hard to believe that was even possible. The language was vibrant and exciting, but Miranda managed to turn it into something akin to a civil servant caught in a daily routine, spouting nothing but rules and regulations when all you wanted was a yes or no answer. It was all quite humdrum and mundane.

He cast a furtive glance at his watch; it was only eight o’clock. They’d been through the appetizers, and had finished their main course of Coq au Vin. Traditionally made by slowly cooking a rooster in red Burgundy wine with little sticks of salted pork belly, all layered with the rich aroma of the wine, earthy mushrooms, and sweet onions.

Napoleon being a bit of a gourmet himself, considered it one of the great braises of the world. It was one of his go to dishes when taking a lady to this particular restaurant.

The young lady however, was beginning to wear thin on him. There was still dessert to get through and the usual aperitif. What could he do but man up and see it through to taking her home and dropping her off at her door. Any invitation to come upstairs to her apartment would be side stepped. He’d think of an excuse.

The attraction he’d felt for Miranda was long gone, and he wished he was as well.

This seemingly intelligent woman was now going on about her uncle’s brother’s cousin’s someone-something that happened twenty years ago, among other dull topics. He couldn’t take it, but how could he get out of the rest of this evening without hurting her feelings; he didn't want to do that. She was still a nice person, but she just wasn’t his type after all. Sometimes that happened.

Blessedly Napoleon’s communicator chirped as if on cue, and he quickly assembled it to silence the device.  Luckily in their corner of the restaurant there was no one within earshot.

“Excuse me Miranda, you understand,” he nodded.

“Oh of course. I’ll go powder my nose.” She grabbed her purse and discreetly disappeared.

“Napoleon,” Illya spoke.” I am trying to type up this bloody report you left me to finish but even I cannot read your chicken scratch. You have to translate for me. You started writing something about Roman Veritas and what he said to you...”

“Tovarisch, am I glad to hear your voice. Speaking of translation... I want you to call me back in five minutes and just go along with what I say to you.”

There was silence. ”I take it your date with the lovely Miranda is not going to your satisfaction?”

“That is an understatement if ever I heard one.”

“Napoleon what is in it for me if I were to blindly do your bidding?”

Solo groaned. “Always hedging aren’t you?”

“When it comes to you, I must always look out for myself as you have a way of making things bite me in the end, and I do not mean my zhopa...though sometimes it feels like it as you can be a pain in the..."

The American chuckled, “Okay okay! Tell you what, that report you’re working on...I’ll finish it.”

“Oh you have to do better than that. How about do your reports yourself for the rest of the month and not ask me to take care of them for you.”

“Fine, deal. Now call me back in five. Out.”

Miranda returned to the table looking as lovely as ever, it was a shame her personality didn’t match her pretty face. Napoleon supposed she’d make a accountant a lovely wife someday. Hmmm, maybe he could fix her up with Murray in accounting?  Wait, that was putting the horse before the cart.

Napoleon resisted the urge to drum his fingers on the the table as Miranda began her exposition on some distant relative of hers yet again.

His communicator finally called to him again, but this time he held up his hand, indicating that the girl should stay.

“Solo here,” he whispered.

“Kuryakin here.”

“Has that delivery arrived?” Napoleon asked.

Silence. ”Delivery? Ummm, it is on its way.” Illya had no idea where to go with this.

“What do you mean it's on its way?” Napoleon raised his voice ever so slightly. “It should have arrived an hour ago. This isn’t good. The package might have been waylaid. I’ll be right there; we need track it down immediately...the fate of the world depends on the safety of that package. Solo out.”

He tucked his communicator pen in his breast pocket, looking across the table at Miranda.

“I understand Napoleon; duty calls. Would you mind if I stayed and had dessert. I was looking forward to trying the brandied pears.”

“Oh that’s fine.” He rose from his seat and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’ll make arrangements for a cab to take you home. Good night Miranda...or should I say buona notte signorina.”

“Chow Napoleon and thanks. I have to say you weren’t at all like what I’d been warned you'd be.”

“Gee thanks.”

Napoleon paid the bill and slipped money to Armande the Maitre D’  to pay for a cab for Miranda.

“Merci Monsieur Solo, until we see your again.”

Napoleon gave him a quick salute before stepping out into the crisp night air and breathed a sigh of relief.
Pausing, he reminded himself the night was still young.

Maybe someone else from his little black book would be interested in going dancing?

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Well, it worked out well for Illya. I wonder if he won't find himself helping out a bit anyway.

Thanks for a solid and enjoyable fic, with a good Napoleon pov. I do like the bit about him sometimes just wanting companionship.

I must quote she’d make a accountant a lovely wife someday and "I have to say you weren’t at all like what I’d been warned you'd be"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you ! Glad you liked those lines, as they were some of my favorites as well.

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Hope NS finishes the report before he finds a "dancing partner"! Very good story.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! There may be a follow up to this in the works! "D

[yumyumpm.livejournal.com]

Why do I get the feeling that Miranda isn't as dull as she made out. Perhaps she'd heard too much about Napoleon and merely wanted a wonderful meal?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Now that's an interesting suggestion. I'm thinking of continuing this story.

Thanks for the great comment!

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Very clever of Napoleon to get out of his date and also clever of Illya to get what he wanted.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Reciprocity is a good thing to have in a partnership. I think Illya has learned the art of the deal when it comes to his friend and partner.

Thanks for reading and commenting.