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Napoleon watched his partner dress. Although they both had only the clothes they escaped in, he had hung his up while Illya had thrown his on the chair.
Slipping on his wrinkled pant and shirt, Illya sat to pull on his socks and shoes.
Napoleon shook his head getting the Russian’s attention. “What?”
“Didn’t you ever hear of style and neatness?”
“I was shot at after being pushed into a mud puddle, this is as fashionable as I get.”
To accent his statement, he raked his fingers through his hair. “I am ready.” He said smirking further exasperating his partner.
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Date: 2013-01-03 07:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-03 08:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-01-03 09:28 pm (UTC)