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section7mfuNapoleon Solo emerged from the bathroom of the hotel suite he was sharing with Illya. The pair were in New Orleans a day early for an assignment so, naturally, Napoleon had decided to chance his luck at finding a willing companion for the evening. Illya, on the other hand, opted to go over the pre-mission reports and test the head of accounting’s patience by enjoying a little room service. He looked up as Napoleon crossed the room.
Solo was dressed in a white linen suit and a white linen shirt. Even his shoes were patent white leather. The only colour was the blue of his silk tie and handkerchief, which were the exact shade of blue as the sapphire in his ring.
“It is only March,” Illya commented, arranging his face into a neutral expression.
“Am I supposed to glean some meaning from that statement?” Napoleon asked, not failing to notice his partner’s carefully constructed lack of reaction.
“White Linen night is at the beginning of August,” Illya explained. “It comes from a time when the only way to keep cool in the summer heat here was to wear white linen. Didn’t the salesman try to put you off such a purchase?”
“For your information,” said Napoleon, as he tucked his communicator into his inside breast pocket. “I picked this suit up in New York, and thought it might give me the look of a southern gentleman,”
Illya tried hard, but he couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Napoleon was such a preening peacock at times.
“I am sure you will be the talk of the town,” the Russian stated.
“Don’t wait up, dear,” Napoleon said, a little huffily, before heading out for a night of fun.
He returned a little under half an hour later. The front of his white suit and shirt had become brown.
“Don’t say anything,” he warned his partner.
“About what?” asked Illya, innocently. “About the fact it has been raining all day? About all the water pooling on the dirty roads? About the way that water is sprayed by the traffic? About...”
“Okay, okay!” Napoleon stopped him. “Maybe I was dressed little incorrectly for the time of year.”
.
Solo was dressed in a white linen suit and a white linen shirt. Even his shoes were patent white leather. The only colour was the blue of his silk tie and handkerchief, which were the exact shade of blue as the sapphire in his ring.
“It is only March,” Illya commented, arranging his face into a neutral expression.
“Am I supposed to glean some meaning from that statement?” Napoleon asked, not failing to notice his partner’s carefully constructed lack of reaction.
“White Linen night is at the beginning of August,” Illya explained. “It comes from a time when the only way to keep cool in the summer heat here was to wear white linen. Didn’t the salesman try to put you off such a purchase?”
“For your information,” said Napoleon, as he tucked his communicator into his inside breast pocket. “I picked this suit up in New York, and thought it might give me the look of a southern gentleman,”
Illya tried hard, but he couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Napoleon was such a preening peacock at times.
“I am sure you will be the talk of the town,” the Russian stated.
“Don’t wait up, dear,” Napoleon said, a little huffily, before heading out for a night of fun.
He returned a little under half an hour later. The front of his white suit and shirt had become brown.
“Don’t say anything,” he warned his partner.
“About what?” asked Illya, innocently. “About the fact it has been raining all day? About all the water pooling on the dirty roads? About the way that water is sprayed by the traffic? About...”
“Okay, okay!” Napoleon stopped him. “Maybe I was dressed little incorrectly for the time of year.”
.
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Date: 2019-03-28 10:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-29 12:18 pm (UTC)My muse is certainly being kind lately :-)