The Randomness of Life Chapter 7 ~ for A Little Drabble Do Ya

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Alf-drabbles inspired by lines from a single random poem.

Prompted by: Moon Fishing~Lisel Mueller

.

and one with a silver cup.

It was one of the few times he’d seen Napoleon truly drunk. He sat sprawled on the living room floor, looking at a photo album, waxing poetic.

“I loved her, but she didn’t love U.N.C.L.E....did I make a mistake with Clara?”

“Do not second guess, it will do no good.”

.

net of shimmering threads,

Did you ever love someone?

Illya bowed his head; it was such a personal question.

“I was young...it was not real love but infatuation.

“First kiss?”

“Ten”

“First time you made love?”

“Sixteen.”

“Regrets?”

“Many.”

“And they are?” Napoleon pushed.

“That is your allotment of questions for the year.”

.


You must cut out your hearts and bait your hooks

“There is no place for love in our lives I think,” Illya said, “How
could there be when we could be dead tomorrow?”

“I suppose you’re right, wouldn’t be fair to a woman would it?
There’s time enough for love when we retire I suppose.”

“You are ever the optimist.”
.


and drink as you never have,

It was a suicide mission. No one at headquarters hesitated telling them that. Yet a pool was started, betting on them to live or die.  

“Let’s celebrate, drinks tonight, Illya. I bet on us in the pool today.”

“I think we will die.”

“Oh ye of little faith, tovarisch.” Napoleon smiled.