The Coat
By WendieZ
Illya laid his copy of the report concerning The Bird and the Bees Affair on Solo's desk.
Napoleon looked up. "You know I've been meaning to ask you, Illya. Where on earth did you get that jacket?"
The Russian looked down at his newly acquired deep burgundy sport coat. "At the haberdashery, where else? I wanted something a little different."
"Well, it is that."
"I like it."
"No one can accuse you of having exceptional taste."
"Tavia likes it, too. She says it makes me look kifinomult."
"What does that mean—goofy?"
"It happens to mean sophisticated, Napoleon."
"If you say so." As Illya turned to leave, Solo asked, "And where are you off to this early in the day?"
"There's an Hungarian Festival in Central Park beginning this afternoon. Miss Sandor and I want to make sure the csirke paprikas and nokedli are authentic. I'd bring you a couple of palacsinta with apple filling but I don't expect they'll be as good tomorrow morning." Illya smiled cheekily. "I fully expect my jacket and I will busy later tonight—dancing," he added provocatively as the shut behind him.
Napoleon chuckled to himself. "Not in that jacket you won't, my friend."
