Short and Sweet - A Little Drabble Do Ya

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

“Here, let me get that for you.”

The Russian graciously accepted the help of Sam Whittle, a tall Texan who towered over everyone in the New York offices.

“Thank you, Sam.  I was going to get a ladder, but…”

The smaller man shrugged his shoulders in a manner that indicated his acceptance of being shorter than many… most of the agents.  Years of experience had taught him to meet challenges but accept conveniences when offered.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Kuryakin.  It’s an honor.”

The elderly Russian nodded his acknowledgement, still amazed that his career had netted admiration from a new generation.

A Little Drabble Do Ya - In One piece

[avrovulcan.livejournal.com]

“Arrgh Illya, I want to be alive when we arrive.”

“Either I drive fast, or they catch us.”

Napoleon twisted in his seat and fired at the THRUSH following, then was violently thrown against the side of the car as the Russian made an almost impossible turn into a side road.

“How many have you crashed this month, tovarisch?”

“Six.”

The vehicle was spun into another road, Napoleon braced himself and again aimed at their pursuers, taking them out this time.

“In only three weeks? Next time, I’m driving.”

“Will that be with or without the cast on your arm, Napoleon?”

The Randomness of Life Chapter 39~ for A Little Drabble Do Ya, Wednesday drabble challenge 5/1

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

                             

Prompted by: The Last Supper ~Rainer Maria Rilke

The loneliness of old comes over him

There are times that I wonder about Alexander Waverly. The man never sleeps, never misses a trick. He is always the sly one, clever in his plans and strategies.

He’s getting up there in years, and I hope that I’ll live long enough to be half the man he is.

.

and (like a shot that scatters birds from trees)

His is a name that strikes fear into the hearts of our enemies,  yet to look at him; he seems the kindest, most gentle spoken of men...a grandfatherly type.

Yet there are those who know that within beats the heart of a fierce lion waiting to quickly, unmercifully strike.

.

everywhere like an all-pervading twilight-hour.

He watches over us, his agents like a sentinel, and the weight, I know, of sometimes sending
people to an untimely death weighs heavily upon his shoulders.

I wonder, will I be able to fill those shoes someday?

Will I be deserving of the title, “The Old Man?"

A Little Drabble Do Ya: An Observation

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

Lisa Rogers brought the memos into Mr. Waverly’s office for his signature. She saw he was on the phone and started to leave, but was stopped by his waving hand. She smiled as he was obviously speaking with his wife.

“Yes, my dear girl. I’ll be on my way home shortly. I’ve missed you, too. Yes, I remember our night in Marseilles. I think revisiting that night would be lovely, too. I’ll bring home a bottle of wine. The feeling is mutual. Goodbye.” He looked at her smiling face. “One is never too old for romance, Miss Rogers.”

“No, sir.”