A drabble; A Letter;

[lilidelafield.livejournal.com]

Illya barely glanced up as his partner entered their office.

           “There’s a letter for you on the cabinet.” He said, threading a fresh sheet of paper into his typewriter and winding it on. He heard a sharp intake of breath and glanced up. Napoleon was staring at the open letter in his hand as though hypnotized, a look of shock on his face. Alarm bells rang.

           “Are you alright, my friend? Can I do anything?”

Wordlessly, Napoleon shook his head and left the room. Illya watched him go, full of concern. Whatever was wrong with Napoleon? What could have happened?