"Napoleon, have you seen my glasses?" Illya pushed aside a stack of folders and frowned. "I could have sworn I left them right here."

"Careful, partner, you know what they say is the first thing to go… well, second for some of us."

"What?" He stopped, confused by Napoleon's statement. "Glasses are the first thing to go for what purpose, please?"

"How long have you been speaking English, Illya?"

"Seven years, but I've only been speaking American for a few months. "

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that until I came here, I did not fully grasp the meaning of the phrase two nations divided by a common language."

"Funny Russian." Napoleon carefully closed one of his drawers. It had a habit of pinching his finger if he was too hasty. "Why do you need those glasses anyway?"

"I just need them, Napoleon." Illya had given up his search. "In the same way you need to flirt with every female we encounter."

"Not every female."

"Forgive me, every female with a pulse." Illya reached for the phone and dialed a number from memory. "Is Dr. Humboldt available? This is Illya Kuryakin. Thank you." He glared at Napoleon, daring him to make a comment.

"Humboldt here. What can I do for you, Mr. Kuryakin?"

"I seem to have misplaced my glasses, Doctor. I wondered if you would be so good as to provide me with a second pair."

"Of course, just drop in any time."

"Thank you." Napoleon had stood and Illya glanced over at him. "Where are you going?"

"To the eye doctor's."

"Why?"

"To help you pick out something more becoming."

"Becoming? That is a feminine word, Napoleon. I do not want to look like a woman."

"And I would never want you to, but those frames of yours are out of a horror movie. You couldn't pick something more unappealing if you tried."

"Napoleon, the only purpose of the frame is to hold the lenses. Do not make this into some sort of fashion statement."

"I'm coming with you."

"No."

"Yes. As senior enforcement agent by two years, I insist."

"You get a lot of mileage out of that claim."

"You play the hand you are dealt, Mr. Kuryakin, now let's go."

They walked into the office and the receptionist smiled. "Right on time for your appointment, I see."

"You ask and I deliver," Illya said, stepping aside.

"Mr. Solo, the doctor will see you now."

"What? No, you're mistaken. It's Illya who has the appointment."

"No, Mr. Solo, you are three months past your appointment date."

"I've been busy."

"Which is why they turned to me." Illya sat down and pulled his glasses out of his breast pocket. "I'll give you a ride home when they are through.

"This was underhanded, Kuryakin. I'm going to remember this during the next salary reviews."

"I would prefer you remember this when you are properly able to keep a THRUSH agent from killing me."

"Paybacks are tough."

"Death is tougher. Have a nice appointment, Napoleon."

He watched him partner, still protesting, being lead away and grinned at the receptionist. "As for you, Mr. Kuryakin, our bargain is still in place." She reached behind the desk and brought out a bowl of candy. "Take your pick."

After a moment, Illya selected a Tootsie Roll pop and went back to his seat. It really was like taking candy from a baby. The real challenge would be staying alive on the ride home.