Some people around here call him the Ice Prince. I don't personally, firstly because my Papa taught me that its rude to call people names, and secondly, because I don't want to find out what would happen if he ever overheard me using it. I mean, my room-mate Janice swears that his bark is worse than his bite, but I've heard the stories about what Kuryakin did to that lab tech that ruined one of his experiments and to be honest, if that's his bite, then it's bad enough, so I really don't want to be on the receiving end of the bark.

And some of those Section Two agents, well they roam about headquarters like the own the place, even Napoleon - but then he's a total dreamboat along with it, so somehow I can forgive him.. Especially when a moonlit night and dancing are involved. There's not many girls in UNCLE that wouldn't swoon a bit at the chance of a night with the debonair Mr Solo, although to be fair there's a good number who would like to take a chance at melting Illya Kuryakin's chilly demeanour too, if only he'd give them opportunity. He's not my type at all though - too stern and unforgiving, and that icy stare of his when you aren't fast enough with an answer sends shivers straight down my spine.

Which is why, I find myself wishing that I had the day off the day that we lose Mr Solo's signal.

"What do you mean we've lost him?"

The angry voice came out of nowhere - the guys (and gals I guess) in Enforcement are like cats. You don't hear them until suddenly, they're right there in your face - its why I've always been more of a dog person myself, I don't like being sneaked up on. Particularly when I'm just sitting here doing my job like he asked me to. You'd think he'd be a bit more grateful, given that I've passed up my break to listen to the kind of static that gives you a headache. But no, he comes in shouting as though I personally took Mr Solo out, blindfolded him, spun him around three times and then lost him on purpose.

"There's nothing on his channel but static." I'm annoyed at the defensive note that has crept into my voice, this isn't the fault of UNCLE's equipment, or it's operator - no matter what Mr Kuryakin seems to imply. " There was the residual hum from the frequency beam just the way it's supposed to be, then all of a sudden it stopped... then static."

He huffs in irritation but in fairness he isn't looking at me and I suspect that he's wishing he's out there in the field with Napoleon. Neither of them like to be left out of the action, particularly when the other one is in danger and I guess it's understandable but it does make them tricky to deal with. Particularly when they start flicking the switches on my console, as though I am some incompetent, merely here as ornamentation.

I trained for two years in this role. If I cannot reach Mr Solo, it's because he cannot be reached. By anybody.

I resist the urge to slap his hands away but it is a struggle.

"Have you signalled him?"

What on earth does he think I've been doing?

"A dozen times" I answer, pointedly. Despite my best efforts I sound irritated, even to myself but I'm not sure he notices. His attention is already elsewhere as he asks me to keep trying. And that is the time that I realise that maybe Mandy Stevenson and Janice are right and that he isn't as terrifying as he seems. Because as he leaves, and he thinks no one is looking, I see a flash of fear as he realises that Napoleon is out of contact, alone anf potentially surrounded by THRUSH. In that second, and only for a moment, I can plainly see how human he really is.

I'm still relieved when he leaves though.

I'm even more relieved when I hear Napoleon's smooth baritone through my headset a little while later.

"If you can hear me, come to the Hazard Research and Development Company," I jot down his words as he speaks, careful not to interrupt and miss any of his message. "In the main foundry there's a door..."

I'm glad I'm alone in the room when I let out a shriek of frustration as the static resumes. I was looking forward to smugly being able to tell Kuryakin that I've found him, and now I'm going to have to admit that I've lost him. Again.

With a huge sigh, I open a channel to the Russian.

"Mr Kuryakin, we received a transmission from Mr Solo."

"Can you patch him through?" he asks, sounding infinitely more cheerful than he did when he left. I hate being the bearer of bad news.

"I'm afraid we've lost him again sir."

There is no response, just abrupt silence as the connection is severed. I find myself listening out for approaching footsteps.

I am pleased that I manage to remain coolly professional, even when the blond man comes barrelling through the door some thirty seconds later, demanding to know where Mr Solo is and precisely what he said. I repeat everything I heard, word for word, even reading from my notes so as to be accurate.

"You are sure that is all?" he sounds tense, and I know that with Mr Waverly in Japan and Solo missing that he's probably having a downright lousy day but that's no reason to be rude.

"I'm telling you that's all he said!" I am getting heated now, but I don't care. If I knew anything more I would tell him! I repeat the message again, for him so he can be sure that I have been thorough.

"Then there was silence for a few seconds and then the static started again."

"All right!" he grinds out, and he seems so angry for a moment. Not an Ice Prince at all but full of fire, that he longs to put into finding Napoleon. He's got no one but me to take it out on, I realise, but that doesn't give him any right to do so. I am doing my best, same as everyone else in UNCLE.

He pushes away from the console and marches towards the door, and I have visions of him storming through the facility Napoleon is in, guns blazing, nothing stopping him until he finds his, finds our man. In that moment I see Mr Kuryakin as THRUSH see him, and I realise that he isn't an Ice Prince at all - he is something much fiercer, and infinitely more terrifying.

But then he pauses, his shoulders drop and he turns back to face me, and I see that if anything, he looks almost ashamed of himself. He comes back to my console, drops down to my height, and looks at me with a heartfelt smile.

"Thank you," he says, in that soft European accent of his, and I feel myself melt a little, as I realise how good looking he is. My heart warms at the thought that he's taken the time to thank me. There's not many in Section Two who are that gentlemanly - spend a moment making sure we 'subordinates' feel appreciated - aside from Napoleon that is. He must be rubbing off on his partner. His smile reaches his eyes, I and notice for the first time what a wonderful blue they are.

Maybe Illya Kuryakin is my type after all.