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section7mfu“What’s all that noise,” Napoleon Solo asked as he stuck his head out of the bathroom, his voice muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth.
“It is Mardi Gras,” Illya Kuryakin replied, not looking up from the permission report he was reading. “A traditionally noisy time in New Orleans.”
“Yeah, but it seems a bit early in the day.”
Laying down the file, Illya went to take a look out of the window. Their hotel room was on the second floor, and afforded them an excellent view up and down the street. Looking down to the road below, Illya could see hundreds of people dressed in white, with red scarves around their necks and waists.
“If I was in Pamplona, I would say that it is the Running of the Bulls.”
“I see what you mean.”
Napoleon had finished his teeth and had joined Illya by the window. He looked to where the runners were coming from and surprised to see them being chased by hundreds of women on roller skates. They were wearing hats with cow horns on them, and were pretending to gore anyone who was unable to outpace them.
“Well, that’s new,” Napoleon commented. “And looks much more fun than the real thing.”
“Have you done it for real?”
“No, but I have witnessed it. You?”
“Twice.”
“Twice?
“Yes, twice,” Illya confirmed. “One was when I took a wrong turning while trying to evade a Thrush.”
“And the other?” Solo prompted, when it was obvious Illya wasn’t going to continue.
“Was another time,” the Russian mumbled. “If you’re done in the bathroom, I shall use it myself.”
Ten minutes later, Illya emerged from his ablutions, only to be confronted with the question again. His head dropped in that manner which told Napoleon he was embarrassed, and this was backed up by his reddening ears.
“My friends and I were trying to impress a girl,” he replied, eventually. “It was when I was at Cambridge, and four of us took a short trip to Spain. While there, we all took a liking to a local girl and, in an effort to win her affection, and outdo each other in the machismo stakes, we decided to run with the bulls.”
“Did you win the heart of the girl?”
“No,” Illya said, with annoyance etched into his voice. “Her husband had a prior claim to that.”
.
“It is Mardi Gras,” Illya Kuryakin replied, not looking up from the permission report he was reading. “A traditionally noisy time in New Orleans.”
“Yeah, but it seems a bit early in the day.”
Laying down the file, Illya went to take a look out of the window. Their hotel room was on the second floor, and afforded them an excellent view up and down the street. Looking down to the road below, Illya could see hundreds of people dressed in white, with red scarves around their necks and waists.
“If I was in Pamplona, I would say that it is the Running of the Bulls.”
“I see what you mean.”
Napoleon had finished his teeth and had joined Illya by the window. He looked to where the runners were coming from and surprised to see them being chased by hundreds of women on roller skates. They were wearing hats with cow horns on them, and were pretending to gore anyone who was unable to outpace them.
“Well, that’s new,” Napoleon commented. “And looks much more fun than the real thing.”
“Have you done it for real?”
“No, but I have witnessed it. You?”
“Twice.”
“Twice?
“Yes, twice,” Illya confirmed. “One was when I took a wrong turning while trying to evade a Thrush.”
“And the other?” Solo prompted, when it was obvious Illya wasn’t going to continue.
“Was another time,” the Russian mumbled. “If you’re done in the bathroom, I shall use it myself.”
Ten minutes later, Illya emerged from his ablutions, only to be confronted with the question again. His head dropped in that manner which told Napoleon he was embarrassed, and this was backed up by his reddening ears.
“My friends and I were trying to impress a girl,” he replied, eventually. “It was when I was at Cambridge, and four of us took a short trip to Spain. While there, we all took a liking to a local girl and, in an effort to win her affection, and outdo each other in the machismo stakes, we decided to run with the bulls.”
“Did you win the heart of the girl?”
“No,” Illya said, with annoyance etched into his voice. “Her husband had a prior claim to that.”
.
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Date: 2019-03-23 07:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-23 07:58 pm (UTC)He may be quiet, and remote, most of the time, but he's still a red-blooded male :-D