[identity profile] otherhawk.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] section7mfu
Illya hadn't turned up to breakfast, which was unusual enough that Napoleon had turned right around and headed back upstairs to check on him. He stood outside his partner's hotel room, knocking, waiting and slowly starting worrying. Just before he reached the point of forcing the door, he heard shuffling footsteps and a second later Illya pulled the door open.

For a long moment they just stood there looking at each other, Illya, red nosed, bleary-eyed and wearing a dressing gown with at least a half dozen handkerchiefs poking out the pockets.

"I'b not sick," he announced stuffily.

"Uh huh." Napoleon raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I believe you, pal."

Illya sighed huffily and broke off coughing. "I might be gedding a cold," he admitted. "But I ab treating it."

"WIth what?" Napoleon asked involuntarily.

There was a pause. Illya's eyes narrowed. "Resentment," he hissed.

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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

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