Napoleon watched on thoughtfully as Illya strummed a guitar in the commissary. The instrument had been bought by one of the secretaries, as a gift for her young son, and she had asked Illya if he would tune it. Naturally, this had led to the Russian played a few tunes, and the ladies flocked around to listen. Solo had grown up learning the piano, but there seemed to be something more sensual about the guitar.
Illya finished his impromptu recital, and joined his partner for lunch.
“Tovarisch?” Napoleon said. “How would you like to give me a few guitar lessons?”