Napoleon Solo and his blond partner were suddenly pushed apart as a woman from Communications rudely squeezed herself in between the two of them as they walked down the corridor, heading towards their office.
Illya took a step back; the sensible thing to do when it became obvious that she was a woman scorned. She lashed out with an acid tongued barrage against his partner...something about a date.
"This was going to be a show worth watching," the Russian mused to himself, as he leaned comfortably against the grey wall, letting his tinted glasses slide down his nose as he looked over them with amusement.
"But Tia I swore our date was for Saturday night, please don't be mad at me?" Napoleon pleaded with the raven-haired beauty as she stood in front of him with her arms crossed and a foot moving angrily on the floor.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap...
She suddenly lashed out at him with a stinging slap to his face.
"I'm Mia!" She snarled, turning away from him, her high heels clicking loudly as she walked off, still fuming. "See if I ever go out with you again, you...you, two-timer!"
"Serves you right," Illya sniggerd. "You arrange too many dates for yourself and were bound to eventually trip yourself up."
"Hey no one asked the opinion of the peanut gallery," Napoleon retorted, rubbing his cheek as they continued walking again. They took but a few steps closer to their destination when they heard another woman's shrill voice calling from behind them.
"Napoleon Solo! I want a word with you and you better darn well not walk away from me!" She too stepped between the partners.
"What's this I hear about you having a date with Tia on Saturday night?" A buxom blonde this time and also from Communication, demanded.
"Ugh, I don't...I think..." Napoleon's hesitation gave her a window to launch her verbal assault.
"You think? You think! You know darn well you were supposed to take me out to the Purple Unicorn on Saturday!"
"Gee, Rhea, I'm sorry. That's right, I do have reservations for us at the Unicorn." He lied, not recalling exactly what he'd planned.
"Slap!"
Napoleon took a hit to the other side of his face. "Aw come on!" He moaned.
"You know darn well mister, my name is Pia!" She too stormed off.
Now Napoleon remembered her, Miss 'you know darn well, Pia Peretti. She did like to use that phrase a lot...
By now Kuryakin was covering his mouth, trying not to laugh out loud.
"I am beginning to see a pattern here, Napoleon. You my friend have gotten yourself into a rut. Perhaps you need to take a sabbatical from the dating scene until your memory for names returns to you, that or at least stop dating women whose names sound so much alike".
"I suppose you're right, too much of the Name Game," Napoleon broke out into a verse, trying to cheer himself. ""Tia Tia bo-ba-nea. Bo-na-na fan-na, fo-fa-nee, fee fi fo mia,Tia... Maybe I'll stay home Saturday night just to be on the safe side," Solo glumly resigned himself. "Care to keep me company?"
"Please do not sing that again, and I must say you really are becoming absent-minded. Do you not recall that you were taking me to the 21 Club for a dinner you owed me, for covering for you with Maria," Illya feigned resentment. "I suppose my name fits in with the rest of the homonymic list... Tia, Mia, Rhea, Pia. Maria...Illya."
"You're not going to slap me too, are you?"
"I was thinking about it..."
