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“Daddy?”

“Yes, Leona?”

“Can I have a pony?”

“May I.”

“May I have a pony, Daddy?”

“There is no room for a pony in the penthouse.”

“You could ask Uncle Lamont to keep it in the backyard.”

“That is not enough room for a pony, either; ponies need lots of space to run.”

“Like in the country?”

“Exactly, just like in the country.”

“May we move to the country, Daddy?”

“No, we may not.  There are city mice and country mice.  Papa, you and I are city mice.  We belong in New York City.”

“Yes, Daddy.  Daddy?”

“Yes, Leona?”

“May I have a mouse?”

“Why did The Old Man let a Commie into UNCLE?  Stinks to have a Commie period but, in New York?”

“I heard the CIA follows him everywhere; when they find that pinko’s handlers, they’ll throw his ass in jail so fast his head will...  Mr. Solo!  May we help you?”

“Yes, you can either stop spewing your ignorant rants in this commissary, these hallways and these offices or you can man our Antarctica facility and rant all you want.  Which is it?”

“Um, we’ll stop, sir; sorry.”

“Here’s your coffee, Illya.  Sorry I took so long.”

“Anything happen?”

“No.”

“I told you I’m… achhh… fine.”

“Yeah, that sounds just great, Illya.  Where are you hit?”

Silence and then the sound of something hitting the floor.

“Illya?  Damn stubborn Russian…”

“I am still here, Napoleon.”

Sneaky Russian.

“What was that noise?”

Another thump caused both men to aim their weapons towards the sound.

“I thought you darted that last Thrush.  I wasn’t counting on reinforcements.”

“Nor I, Napoleon.  They sometimes fail to cooperate with us, something that is quite annoying.”

Another thump and the UNCLE agents decided it wasn’t a person after all.  Something else was making that noise, and down here in this tunnel the sound was simply amplified.  They continued to make their way towards a glimmer of light, and what they hoped was the way out of the satrapy they had infiltrated earlier.  It just hadn’t been quite the success either of them had planned.

“Right shoulder.”

“What? Oh.  Bleeding much?”

Illya shook his head in the darkness, something that caused him to suddenly feel dizzy. 

“Not bleeding, just…”

Napoleon caught Illya just as the blond started to slump, supporting him as he half dragged the smaller man to the end of the tunnel.

“Annoying as hell.”

The shot ricocheted way too close to Napoleon’s head for comfort.  “Illya!” he called to his partner who was behind him calmly picking the lock that was blocking them from  freedom, “A little alacrity right now would be greatly appreciated!”

“I am almost there, Napoleon,” the Russian replied unhurriedly.

“I can’t hold them much longer!”

Illya unlocked the door and in one fluid motion, yanked Napoleon out with him while lobbing a grenade through as Napoleon pulled the door shut before turning to run behind his partner.

Brushing himself off, he turned to Illya and said, “Cutting it close, weren’t you?”

“We are alive, stop complaining.”

“Illya, I’ve asked Marian in Translations out for drinks tomorrow.  If you ask her friend Kellie, we can double.”

The Russian sighed, “I cannot ask her or any UNCLE employee out, Napoleon.  I discovered there is a $500 office pool to be awarded to whoever guesses who goes out with the ‘Ice Prince’.”

“You know about that?”

“You know about it?  Napoleon,” Illya growled, “What did you do?”  Realization hit suddenly.  “You bet on Kellie!”

Blushing, Napoleon replied, “I figured you would rather win money for me instead of lending it to me.  I’m trying to help you out.”

“Thanks.”