section7mfu | The Sit In ... A Little Drabble Do Ya

It's a double drabble, and without intending to, probably the prelude (another musical term :), to a longer story.
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"C'mon baby light my fire, pick me up and fix my tire…" Illya groaned out loud as his partner murdered the Doors' hit song.

"Please, I will pay you money to stop singing like that. You do know you have the lyrics all wrong, don't you?" Napoleon looked at Illya and grinned.

"If you think you can do better…" Ah, the gauntlet. Illya was seated at a piano in the Mask Club, just running a few riffs as they waited for Mr. Waverly. No one else was there except two waitresses and the bartender.

"Fine… " He began to play the tune but with a distinctly jazz attitude, the chords more complex than the original. The introduction was mesmerizing and when Illya began to sing it was sultry, smooth… sexy.

The two young women, waitresses who also worked for the U.N.C.L.E. as support staff, came a little closer to listen to the Russian agent. They knew who he was, and this impromptu performance was something they would be talking about, bragging actually.

Napoleon felt as though his job was a success. Mr. Waverly had asked him to facilitate an audition of sorts; not for him, for a man needing their help.

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**sit in
In jazz and blues, to "sit in" is to be invited to perform onstage along with another group for one or several songs, often to perform improvised solos.