Man from U.N.C.L.E. Section VII

It was a sweltering summer night, with the temperature somewhere in the nineties...which meant it felt even hotter because of the high in humidity.

It was weather such at this that Illya Kuryakin found almost torturous. His Slavic blood preferred it much cooler but alas, coolness was not in the cards for him.

He sat on his fire escaped dressed only in a pair of black gym shorts, a cigarette balanced motionless between his fingers.

The ash had burned quite long and was hanging there. Finally he moved, tapping the butt with his finger, sending the ash fluttering away in the hot breeze.

He swore the city was noisier than usual tonight, perhaps it was the atmospheric pressure affecting the acoustics….after all, the speed of sound in air varies depending on several factors, including humidity.

He took a drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly, watching it dissipate in the moisture laden air.

There was a meteor shower tonight; the Perseids were supposed to peak but with the cloud cover and the lights from the city, that would make them difficult to see.

“Illya?” Napoleon called from the fire escape outside his bedroom window; his apartment was on the floor above Kuryakin’s.