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section7mfuAfter opting to drive for a change, due to not being happy about Illya’s appearance, Napoleon parked the car down the street from the building they were surveilling. They were to monitor who came and went from private lunch club, thought to be frequented by Thrush. Despite the sky being quite overcast, Illya was wearing sunglasses.
“Are you feeling alright?” Napoleon asked. “I imagine you’re quite queasy after all those steaks. And what’s with the sunglasses?”
“I am fine,” Illya replied, without looking at his partner. “I merely have a headache coming on.”
Napoleon couldn’t deny that Illya was plagued by headaches, and the fact he looked so unwell lent credence to his claim. However, the incident with the steaks made him certain that Illya was hiding something. Not that the man was likely to be forthcoming if he asked about it.
The pair sat in almost complete silence for about two hours. Illya was in no mood to talk, and Napoleon could sense it. They were well used to surveillance detail, and could easily sit for many hours with barely a word being spoken, but this time it felt slightly uncomfortable to Napoleon.
“Are you going to tell me what’s up?” he asked eventually.
“Look at them all,” Illya said dully, indicating the people on the sidewalk, and ignoring Napoleon’s question. “Every single one of them is zinging with life-force, and every breath they take ignites another spark of life. So much life, and energy, and vitality.”
Napoleon opened his mouth to ask what on Earth Illya was going on about, but shut it again as the other man continued.
“You hear the blood pounding through their veins.” the Russian stated. “With each beat of their hearts yet more life is pumped into their bodies. Coursing through their blood vessels. Deep, dark, rich blood.”
Napoleon’s eyebrows rose as he witnessed Illya licking his lips at the mention of blood. More alarming was the expression of pure avarice on his face. It was as though he craved the blood, and the life-force, of the people passing by.
“Illya? ILLYA!”
Solo clicked his fingers in front of Illya’s face and, after two or three seconds, he finally responded.
“Napoleon?” he asked, confused. “What is the matter?
“I’m asking you that,” Napoleon told him. “You don’t seem to be yourself.”
Illya wanted to tell his friend what had happened, but he was still not sure of it himself. Something had definitely changed within him, though he was at a loss at how to explain it. Just how could he tell anyone, let alone Napoleon, that he thought he might be turning into a vampire. He would be locked up in a padded cell before the day was out.
“I am feeling quite unwell,” he said. “As soon as we are relieved of this surveillance, I shall go home.”
“Good idea, Tovarisch,” Napoleon agreed. “I’ll bring you something for dinner when I finish.”
With a bit of luck, he thought, I can get Illya to tell me what’s really going on.
.
“Are you feeling alright?” Napoleon asked. “I imagine you’re quite queasy after all those steaks. And what’s with the sunglasses?”
“I am fine,” Illya replied, without looking at his partner. “I merely have a headache coming on.”
Napoleon couldn’t deny that Illya was plagued by headaches, and the fact he looked so unwell lent credence to his claim. However, the incident with the steaks made him certain that Illya was hiding something. Not that the man was likely to be forthcoming if he asked about it.
The pair sat in almost complete silence for about two hours. Illya was in no mood to talk, and Napoleon could sense it. They were well used to surveillance detail, and could easily sit for many hours with barely a word being spoken, but this time it felt slightly uncomfortable to Napoleon.
“Are you going to tell me what’s up?” he asked eventually.
“Look at them all,” Illya said dully, indicating the people on the sidewalk, and ignoring Napoleon’s question. “Every single one of them is zinging with life-force, and every breath they take ignites another spark of life. So much life, and energy, and vitality.”
Napoleon opened his mouth to ask what on Earth Illya was going on about, but shut it again as the other man continued.
“You hear the blood pounding through their veins.” the Russian stated. “With each beat of their hearts yet more life is pumped into their bodies. Coursing through their blood vessels. Deep, dark, rich blood.”
Napoleon’s eyebrows rose as he witnessed Illya licking his lips at the mention of blood. More alarming was the expression of pure avarice on his face. It was as though he craved the blood, and the life-force, of the people passing by.
“Illya? ILLYA!”
Solo clicked his fingers in front of Illya’s face and, after two or three seconds, he finally responded.
“Napoleon?” he asked, confused. “What is the matter?
“I’m asking you that,” Napoleon told him. “You don’t seem to be yourself.”
Illya wanted to tell his friend what had happened, but he was still not sure of it himself. Something had definitely changed within him, though he was at a loss at how to explain it. Just how could he tell anyone, let alone Napoleon, that he thought he might be turning into a vampire. He would be locked up in a padded cell before the day was out.
“I am feeling quite unwell,” he said. “As soon as we are relieved of this surveillance, I shall go home.”
“Good idea, Tovarisch,” Napoleon agreed. “I’ll bring you something for dinner when I finish.”
With a bit of luck, he thought, I can get Illya to tell me what’s really going on.
.
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Date: 2019-10-22 06:44 pm (UTC)