![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
mrua7.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
section7mfuChallenge: The Short Affair
-Prompt Word 1 - Thaw
-Prompt Word 2 – Loan
-Prompt Colour – Green
Author: mrua7
Title: “No rest, or breakfast for the weary”
It was a dreadfully cold day with gusting winds sending a shiver up Napoleon’s spine as he stepped through the door of Del Floria’s.
It was always warm inside the shop because of the steam press, and instead of heading straight to the dressing room he paused, removing his overcoat, fedora and gloves.
He stood there, holding his hands up near the evaporating steam hoping to thaw out his numb fingers, while mentally reminding himself to buy a better pair of gloves.
“Thanks Del,” he said and that was acknowledged with a mere nod of the head by the man behind the press.
Sometimes Napoleon wondered if the retired agents who manned the little tailor shop were cut from the same cloth as his partner, for at times each man known as Del, like Illya, could be a man of few words. Napoleon laughed, correcting himself; his Russian partner could talk endlessly when it was a subject that interested him. Still there were times Illya would close up tighter than a clam.
He stepped into the dressing room, turning the coat hook to open the entrance to the hidden world of the U.N.C.L.E. that lay beyond it.
“Good morning Napoleon,” Wanda smiled as she pinned his yellow ID badge to his lapel, and she received a kiss blown in return.
“You’re looking particularly lovely today; new hair do?
“Thank you, I just combed it a little differently today.” His attentiveness made her blush ever so slightly.
“No summons from Mister Waverly?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Good, I need to get some coffee and a bagel. I didn’t have time for breakfast this morning.
“Napoleon by the way you always look, you must take a lot of time dressing yourself in the morning.”
“Hey Wanda,” he gestured with his hand referring to himself, giving her a wink. ”This look doesn’t happen by itself.
He headed through the secondary entrance, walking down the busy grey corridor, but headed straight for the Commissary.
All the ladies he met greeted him, flirtatiously of course. Responding with a polite good morning and that infectious smile of his, he continued on his mission, not letting them deter him. He was hungry.
Besides, his dance card, as they say, was full; he had dates lined up for most of the evenings this week. If he were called away on assignment, the ladies always understood. There’d be lots of rainchecks.
As he entered the Commissary, he found it surprisingly empty...then again it was a bit early for people to be taking breaks.
After getting his toasted bagel with cream cheese as well as his black coffee, he made a beeline to the back corner where his partner was busy with his own breakfast.
He couldn’t resist when he saw what Illya had on his tray, toast points with capers and smoked salmon, an English muffin, bacon, sausage, an omelette with cheese, spinach and mushrooms. A large serving of fresh fruit, a tall glass of tomato juice and of course his tea sweetened with raspberry jam.
“What no kippers?” Napoleon joked. He remembered Illya had a penchant for them after being stationed in London for three years.
“I have requested they be added to the menu as there is enough staff here from Great Britain who would appreciate them, but my entreaties have fallen on deaf ears. I was told it would cost too much to import them. Still there has to be a shop somewhere in the city that carries them; I must remind myself to look for one. In the mean time salmon will have to do instead.”
“Speaking of money, I wonder if you could…”
Before Solo could finish his sentence Illya drew his money clip from his pocket, and set it down on the table.
“How did you know I was going as you for a loan?”
“The phrase ‘speaking of money’ was the give away.”
Napoleon slipped a twenty dollar bill from the clip, handing it back to his partner.
“Keep the rest, though you will return it to me when we get paid.”
“Illya, there’s eighty dollars here.”
“I am sure you will need it for your other dates this week; I have heard you are taking out Mavis, Lenora, Heather, Christine from Translations and Christine from the secretarial pool...have I missed anyone?”
“And how do you know who I’m taking out this week.”
“Napoleon, one has only to listen to conversations, and besides I have my sources within headquarters. I am, after all, a spy.”
“That you are tovarisch. Thanks for the loan of the green backs. I appreciate it.”
“You really should cut back on your dating to just one or two women per week. You spend so much money on dates and clothing that it is no wonder you are broke all the time.”
“Please, no lectures Illya. I’m a creature of habit, what can I say? Now can I just eat my breakfast in peace?”
Napoleon was just about to bite into his bagel when an announcement came over the public address system; it was the voice of Lisa Rogers.
“Mister Solo, Mister Kuryakin, please report to Mister Waverly’s conference room.”
The message repeated until Solo picked up the black house phone on the wall near the door, announcing they were on their way…
“So much for breakfast,” he sighed to his partner.
“Which is why you should have gotten here earlier my friend.”
“Hey I had a late night and what did I say about lectures?” Napoleon said as they headed out the door.
“Hmm, yes, I forgot about Carlotta.” Illya popped a piece of bacon into his mouth.
“Hey Illya, I’ll wrap your food and send it up to your office,” Cookie called.
“Oh and I don’t get the same courtesy?” Napoleon called out.
“Oh sure, you too. I’ll send up carafes of coffee and hot water for tea too.”
Neither agent heard that last bit as they were already out the door and heading down the corridor.
Who knew what awaited them; perhaps there’d be no rest or breakfast for the weary as duty called...
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2019-08-26 04:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-26 05:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-26 05:34 pm (UTC)(Kippers are awful. The smell alone puts me off. Plus, I can never get my head around having fish for breakfast.)
no subject
Date: 2019-08-26 06:09 pm (UTC)I recalled IK requesting kippers as part of his 'last meal' when he and Napoleon were locked up and about to be executed. (he asked for tomato juice too) I'm not fan of fish per se, though I did grow up eating tuna fish. I can tolerate smoked salmon when in the mood, but kippers sound awful.
My ex boyfriend loved sardines....I mean, he'd put them on anything, even pizza. Ick. I used to have to leave the room.
no subject
Date: 2019-08-27 09:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-27 02:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-26 11:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-27 02:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-27 12:36 pm (UTC)Learn more about LiveJournal Ratings in FAQ (https://www.dreamwidth.org/support/faqbrowse?faqid=303).
no subject
Date: 2019-08-27 02:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-27 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-08-27 10:41 pm (UTC)