The Face in the Fog ~ chapter 7

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

link to chapter 6: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/132739.html         
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Confident his words had preyed on the vanity of his captor enough to distract her; he was about to overpower her when she pulled a gun on him.

“Back to your cell, and I want no more comments from you on how I look. I’ll not stand for it. Now put your hands on your head where I can see them.”

She pushed him along with the gun against his back, and after shoving him inside, she wrapped a heavy chain around the door handle, padlocking it tight.

“Do not forget about those creams,” Illya called out with a snicker.

The Face in the Fog ~ chapter 7

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

link to chapter 6: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/132739.html         
___________________________________________________________

Confident his words had preyed on the vanity of his captor enough to distract her; he was about to overpower her when she pulled a gun on him.

“Back to your cell, and I want no more comments from you on how I look. I’ll not stand for it. Now put your hands on your head where I can see them.”

She pushed him along with the gun against his back, and after shoving him inside, she wrapped a heavy chain around the door handle, padlocking it tight.

“Do not forget about those creams,” Illya called out with a snicker.

Happy Birthday Cosmosmariner - Batter Up!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Napoleon walked briskly towards the office he shared with his partner.  He expected to find the Russian bent over his typewriter, churning out the report that had been demanded by their superior, Alexander Waverly.  Instead of that scene, he was greeted by the sight of Illya in jeans and tee shirt, his left hand encased in a big fielder's glove, and a baseball in the grip of his big right hand.
( happy birthday ahead... )

Happy Birthday Cosmosmariner - Batter Up!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Napoleon walked briskly towards the office he shared with his partner.  He expected to find the Russian bent over his typewriter, churning out the report that had been demanded by their superior, Alexander Waverly.  Instead of that scene, he was greeted by the sight of Illya in jeans and tee shirt, his left hand encased in a big fielder's glove, and a baseball in the grip of his big right hand.
( happy birthday ahead... )