Jun. 13th, 2018

[identity profile] mrua7.livejournal.com

Ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one-hundred….damn, one-hundred-one."

Napoleon silently cursed. After having a tiff with Illya about the Russian helping with his reports Kuryakin walked out of the office on him.

Solo had a stack of reports to do, and practically ordered Illya to help him with them...big mistake.

Before heading out the door Illya suggested he make his illegible reports less wordy, cutting them down to only one hundred words. That would make the secretaries more willing to type them up, as opposed to Napoleon's reports being the equivalent of War and Peace.

"Maybe I could take out an adjective?"

[identity profile] hypatia-66.livejournal.com
Istanbul sahaflar

The streets around Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar were an inevitable draw, lined as they were with second-hand bookshops and bookstalls – books in all languages, books on all subjects – but the Sahaflar Çarşısı was an Aladdin’s cave for a bibliophile. Illya was delighted and, even though the books were often dusty and dog-eared, he would have been happy to spend the entire day picking up and reading his way through them. His conscience, however, in the form of his partner, prevented such an extravagant use of the day.

“There isn’t time, Illya. We’ll come back another day,” said Napoleon.

“We won’t have another day,” Illya growled.

“Another time, then. There’s bound to be one.” 

“But the books will be different.”

“They’ll be just as interesting, come on.” And Illya finally allowed himself to be dragged away still complaining. Napoleon continued to hold onto him until Illya snatched his hand away. 

“Haven’t you noticed,” said Napoleon, “men hold each other’s hands here.”

“Well, you’re not holding mine. I’m not a child.”

“We’re friends – aren’t we?”

For a moment Napoleon wondered if Illya was going to answer that one positively. He turned his eyes to Napoleon’s, frowning, then he smiled. “But I’m still not going to have my hand held,” he said.

[identity profile] glennagirl.livejournal.com
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing much. You?"
"Same. Hungry?"
"Sure. Where?"
'Hmmm… Gino's Deli?"
"Okay."
"Ready?"
"Oh, now?"
"Yes."
"…"
"What?"
"Remember this?"
"The report?"
"Yes, the report."
"Oh."
"Write."
"Me?"
"Yes you."
"…"

Two hours later…

"Ready?"
"Yep."
"Let's go."
"Gino's?"
"Yes."
"Hmmm."
"What?"
"How about a burger?"
"…"
"My treat."
"You owe me ten dollars."
"Oh, well then… Your treat."
"You are …"
"I know, I know. Incorrigible."
"I was going to say irresponsible."
"Moi? I think I'm offended."
"I think you are broke."
"Yes, well… "
"I am hungry and have waited for you to finish that report for two hours."
"Done."


vulcn033.jpg
** Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] avirra for the brilliant use of empty dialogue notation.
[identity profile] jantojones.livejournal.com
Napoleon flopped down heavily into his office chair, causing it move backwards and bump into the wall. He let out a loud and heartfelt sigh, which turned into a deep yawn.

“You are tired, my friend,” Illya commented, barely suppressing a yawn of his own. “I know just how you feel.”

“Is it just me, or do we seem to travelling all over the world a little more than usual at the moment?”

“It is not just you,” Illya replied wearily. “And from what I can understand, it is to remain this way for another two and a half weeks.”


.
[identity profile] alynwa.livejournal.com
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Section VII Propaganda and Public Relations

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