Napoleon, Illya, Mark Slate, Kitt Kittridge and a plethora of other UNCLE employees who were not scheduled to work over the weekend were at a Christmas party being hosted by April Dancer in her home.
There, it was Solo and Kuryakin's intention to get rip snorting drunk, or so that was the plan.
They'd successfully completed an assignment of great strategic importance and just wanted to let down their hair as Napoleon put it.
April had already told them they could use her spare bedroom and couch if they so desired once the party was over. Though Solo was her lover, she wasn't about to share her bed with a drunk, even when that drunk was Napoleon.
She was surprised at both men being determined to get plastered, as she'd never seen them do that before. As an agent, Dancer suspected they needed it; both men had been roughed up on the assignment and still won the day. Napoleon and Illya deserved to let loose for once.
It being Christmas, the baddies around the world seemed to be willing to offer a truce for the holidays. Even they had families, she supposed.
So Napoleon and Illya getting drunk for once wasn't a real problem. There were agents on duty, waiting to be called if need be; for once the senior agents of Solo and Kuryakin were getting a well earned break.
They were never really that relaxed and trusting really tie one one, but then again at the moment they were surrounded by fellow employees...no strangers here to the stress of working for the Command.
April watched with amusement while working the room with a large tray of hors d'oeuvres...deviled eggs, little hot dogs baked in dough, puffed pastries, liver paté... you name it. April had gone all out for this party, great food, and decorations to delight her hard working compatriots.
This year she'd adorned her twinkling Christmas tree with ornaments made by all the guests. That's what she requested they bring, along with themselves to the party.
Photographs turned into tree trinkets...lots of memories for all. Along with one bearing his portrait, Illya had brought several with Russian images, among them St. Basil's Cathedral in Moscow. There was a photo of Mr. Waverly, the UNCLE car, a smiling Napoleon, along with one of yacht, the Pursang. They were all gorgeous and made with care.
The tree looked marvelous! The best ever.
April had a buffet prepared and the tidbits on her tray were just the warm up to that, but before she invited her guests to eat she wanted to stroll behind Napoleon and Illya with the intention of eavesdropping on them.
"I do not drink alcohol," Illya announced," I drink spirits." He held up a rather large glass of vodka.
"Ah tovarisch, if drinking alcohol the way you do, someone who didn't know you might think you were an alcoholic, which we know isn't true, so does that mean since you drink spirits...does that make you spiritual? Is that your solution or should I say, ab-solution?"
"Very ffffuny," Kuryakin slurred ever so slightly. "But not to get technical…"
"Oh please don't tova...tov...tovarisch," Napoleon was feeling no pain as he held up his nearly empty glass.
"Scuse me, but I was going to say be...before you ruley interrupted-ted me. Not to get technical, but accordin' to chemistry alcohol is a solution."
"A solution to what?"
"Wha ever you want it to be. It could be a solution as in a liquid," he raised his glass," or ans-wer to problem, which is why we drink...sometimes." Illya's accent was beginning to thicken.
"Okay-ok-haay," I got you, I got it. Now here's my solution."
Napoleon kicked off his leather loafers with a very satisfied look, revealing a pair of white socks (no surprise there as he had a penchant for them, though he never would say why) He lifted his feet and crossed them atop April's coffee table.
Illya looked down and saw writing in black marker on the soles. On one was written in cursive writing, 'If you can read this…"
On the other was written,'bring me scotch.'
Kuryakin burst out laughing, as did April Dancer.
She grabbed the decanter of scotch from the bar, and filled Napoleon's glass, while offering some words of wisdom.
"People who wonder if the glass is half empty or half full, miss the point. The point is...the glass is refillable."
"April," Napoleon grinned."You are a woman after my own heart."
"Tell me that tomorrow when you're hungover."
She left the tray of hors d'oeuvres on the coffee table and headed over to the buffet, intending to bring them each a plate of food.
"April, you are the bes' host-tesssss. Spasibo!" Illya called out before stuffing a Ritz cracker with paté in his mouth.
"Say that tomorrow when you help me clean up my apartment darling."
Kuryakin didn't hear her as he was too busy tucking into the last of the hors d'oeuvres.
"Okay boys," April chuckled. "I have a test for you." She turned around and came back without the food.
"What sssort of test?" Illya heard that.
'I need you to answer one simple question."
"Fire away," Napoleon shot back.
"Not so fast. I'm going to give you a piece of paper and all you have to do is tick off either the 'yes' or 'no' box. And the question is, 'Are you drunk?"
"Oh thas easy. No self respecin' Russian gets drunk on vodka." Illya looked at his nearly empty glass tumbler.
"Well more vodka than this," he said."Give it here...oh
U vas yest' karandash? Beg pardon; got pencil?"
"Sure," she handed one to him.
April forced herself not to laugh as he gave the paper back to her after answering the question.
Napoleon peeked at it, and smiled.
"You're next darling," April turned the paper over and wrote the same question and the yes and no boxes there on the back.
"I refuse to answer on tha' grounds I may increment myself," Napoleon hiccupped.
Illya's answer was an X marked not anywhere near the yes and no boxes. Still the question was answered quite clearly...