Freezing cold rain was pelting down as Solo and Illya huddled beneath a low slung porch roof.
"Napoleon, just where did you get the information that a courier would meet us here?" Illya felt his teeth chattering, so he clenched them together.
"It was Clarice Van Deuton." Napoleon could barely talk he was so cold, so the name came out Van Dootin. Illya snorted out loud at the name.
"That is not a real name. Spell it."
"I'm too cold, can't make my mouth form it correctly."
Humor penetrated the cold momentarily.
"Rootin', tooting' Dootin', That's funny."