SNAPSHOTS~"Gossip"

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Illya and Napoleon walked along the grey corridors of the New York headquarters at a leisurely pace as a bevy of beauties from the secretarial pool flocked by, whispering as they passed the handsome American, yet ignoring the Russian.

Illya was oblivious to them as he had on his tinted his reading glasses and his nose buried in a file.

He managed to keep it there and still sidestep people without batting an eye, or missing a step as the walked towards towards him and Napoleon. He finally looked up upon hearing the giggling and chatter of the women as they stood nearby, huddled together.

“Do you not ever tire of all....that? Illya asked, gesturing with his hand. “Look at them, acting like a gaggle of geese.”

“Never.” Solo grinned, straightening his tie, glancing back at them. “And I think of them more as swans.”

“All they do is gossip about you, does that not bother you?”

“To paraphrase Oscar Wilde, “Anything worse than people talking about you, is having no one talk about you. Talking about me, ahem, leads to other things.”

“Only you could use Wilde as validation for your liaisons,” Illya sighed. “Gossip is just a distraction for people who have nothing better to do,  as they feel  jealous of those of us still remaining with noble hearts.”

“Are you accusing those lovely ladies of being ignoble?” Napoleon cringed. “If you are, you’ll never get a date around here again.”

“I will take my chances.”

“It is always assumed by the empty-headed, who chatter about themselves for want of something better, that people who do not discuss their affairs openly must have something to hide,”  Napoleon smiled.

“Quoting de Balzac will not change my opinion of gossip,” the Russian countered. “And, by the way, you just insulted the ladies of the secretarial pool by calling them a empty-headed.”

“I wasn’t referring to them.”

“Tell that to the them,” Illya smiled wryly, pointing to the crowd of women who now stood behind his partner, not looking very happy...

The blond turned on his heels, speaking in French, “Je vous laisse à votre dilemme_ I leave you to your dilemma.”

“Hey aren’t you supposed to watch my back partner mine?” Napoleon called as the women closed in.  He could hear the Russian whistling as he turned the corner, and instantly recognized the melody to a Jerry Butler song called,“He will break your heart.”

It was Napoleon’s turn to roll his eyes...

Comments

[avirra.livejournal.com]

Napoleon may have put not one, but both feet in it. Not that anyone worries greatly about him being able to work his way back into the good graces of the secretarial pool eventually.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

So true! He's pretty good at fancy footwork. Thanks! :D