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If you have a picture to go with your drabble please post it and let's see where this might take us today.
Illya Kuryakin overslept, not that he had anything planned today as it was his day off.
His sleep had been disturbed by a noise during the wee hours and he rose to investigate, gun in hand, but found nothing.
He looked at himself in the wall mirror and laughed; he must have tossed and turned during the night as his hair was sticking out in every direction.
That’s when Napoleon chose to let himself in, carrying bagels.
“Rough night tovarisch, and with whom may I ask?”
Someone coughing up a lung was heard from the far end of the corridor. A few people shuddered at the potential for a widespread epidemic.
"It's Kuryakin, he's sick, probably won't go to Medical for help." One of the secretaries felt annoyed at being exposed to some exotic bug brought back by the Russian agent.
Napoleon happened to be within earshot of the comment.
"He's recovering from a nasty THRUSH drug that left him with that cough." His tone was terse.
"Oh. I hope he feels better." The woman made her way past Solo and hoped to keep her job.