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section7mfuSitting in the bar area of their hotel, Illya frowned when he saw the drink Napoleon was bringing to him. While he had no real objection to drinking cocktails, he found he was quite reluctant about one which was pink. Worse still, there was a raspberry, on a stick, balanced on the top of each glass.
“What is that?” he asked, as Solo handed a glass to him.
“It’s a Voodoo Doll,” Napoleon replied. “I thought that, as we’re in New Orleans, and we’re here during Mardi Gras, we should have something suited to the occasion.”
“I asked for vodka.”
“And you got it.”
Napoleon took a sip of his drink, and nodded appreciatively, before eating the raspberry with exaggerated panache. He gestured for Illya to try his. The Russian, however, was examining the cocktail as though it were something in a flask in the U.N.C.L.E. labs. Removing the raspberry from the top, he turned the glass every which way, peering at it as though trying to evaporate the liquid within by thought alone.
“It is a waste of vodka to adulterate it like this,” he declared. “I have nothing against cocktails, but I prefer my vodka as nature intended. What else is in here?”
“Well, apart from the vodka, there’s raspberry schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice,” Solo told him. “Look, just try it before denigrating it. You might like it.”
Illya glared in defiance, but then softened. It wasn’t as though his partner was actually trying to poison him. He started to take a sip but, as the flavour hit his tongue, he downed to whole thing. Staring at the empty glass, he began to smile, and then stopped himself. He didn’t want Napoleon to know he’d actually enjoyed it. Unfortunately, thanks to his chosen career, Solo was an inconveniently observant man.
“Can I get you another, Tovarisch?”
“Da!”
................................................
A/N - I don't know if the Voodoo Doll cocktail existed in the 60s, but can pretend.
.
“What is that?” he asked, as Solo handed a glass to him.
“It’s a Voodoo Doll,” Napoleon replied. “I thought that, as we’re in New Orleans, and we’re here during Mardi Gras, we should have something suited to the occasion.”
“I asked for vodka.”
“And you got it.”
Napoleon took a sip of his drink, and nodded appreciatively, before eating the raspberry with exaggerated panache. He gestured for Illya to try his. The Russian, however, was examining the cocktail as though it were something in a flask in the U.N.C.L.E. labs. Removing the raspberry from the top, he turned the glass every which way, peering at it as though trying to evaporate the liquid within by thought alone.
“It is a waste of vodka to adulterate it like this,” he declared. “I have nothing against cocktails, but I prefer my vodka as nature intended. What else is in here?”
“Well, apart from the vodka, there’s raspberry schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice,” Solo told him. “Look, just try it before denigrating it. You might like it.”
Illya glared in defiance, but then softened. It wasn’t as though his partner was actually trying to poison him. He started to take a sip but, as the flavour hit his tongue, he downed to whole thing. Staring at the empty glass, he began to smile, and then stopped himself. He didn’t want Napoleon to know he’d actually enjoyed it. Unfortunately, thanks to his chosen career, Solo was an inconveniently observant man.
“Can I get you another, Tovarisch?”
“Da!”
................................................
A/N - I don't know if the Voodoo Doll cocktail existed in the 60s, but can pretend.
.
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Date: 2019-03-28 06:09 pm (UTC)I've got the vodka, orange juice, and cranberry juice, but not the raspberry schnapps :-(
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Date: 2019-03-28 06:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-28 07:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-28 10:53 pm (UTC)Someday I can crack them all open when if and when I'm ever in my new apartment and friends can come over for a house session.