"And one more thing, you two?" Adrian Sanders has hidden a crucial detail until the last moment, as per usual. After dropping the bomb (pun intended) of having to work with a Russian KGB spy right in the middle of the Arms Race, of course he would have more news.
"Yes?" He arches an elegant eyebrow, just as the man across from him does.
"Meet your wife, for the sake of the mission. Agent Antonia Pellegrini, one of our own. You two have worked together before, so I expect no issues. She'll be meeting with you in Italy, after she's done visiting family there." He tosses a file down on the table and leaves alongside the other Russian man, a myriad of people following after. The restaurant is empty after, all of the added security having left them alone for a private conversation.
Antonia Pellegrini is a 5'7" American spy whose family comes from Italy. She specializes in assassination. Potentially holds ties to the Italian mad war, which could be useful while they're in Italy. Olive skin and dark hair, but her eyes are grey. Speaks six different languages fluently: French, Italian, German, English, Spanish, and Russian.
It's been a few years since they last worked together, but nonetheless, she is still part of their team for this mission. It would be nice to see her after such a long time. What had she been doing all of this time? Did she settle down and find a husband? Was she still carrying a flask?
"Well," he speaks drily, "where should we start?"
Antonia Pellegrini is waiting for him at the airport when his plane lands. Dressed in a dark blue pantsuit with her hair smoothed back, looking quite the picture. Golden hoops adorn her ears, and he doesn't have to doubt the authenticity of them. Two simple, golden rings are neatly displayed on her left hand. Not bad for fake engagement and marriage rings. Rouge pigment is spread on her lips, sharply highlighting one of her most deadly features. Although, most men aren't aware of it when they kiss her.
"Good evening, Jack," she greets, smiling and waving slightly. One hand is smoothing down her pants (really, he knows that she's just showing him where her weapon is holstered) while the other is fanning her with the golden clutch. The clutch is bugged to report back to Sanders, he knows. It was all in the mission debriefing.
"Good evening, Eliza," he greets back, leaning down slightly in order to peck her cheek. He doesn't dare kiss her on the lips when she's wearing that dark red lipstick. Her most notorious weapon of all: her kiss. He had heard of it, but never seen it in action due to the intimate nature of the tactic.
"How was your trip, dear?" Are you being followed? Were there any complications? The conversation is scripted to seem normal, but in reality, it's code to ensure that the mission is going according to plan.
"It was pleasant, thank you. How was your visit with your family?" No followers, no complications. Are you being followed?
"It was quite alright . Nonna is not doing very well, though." I suspect that I am being followed. We have to go.
"Ah, well, perhaps we should send her a card." Follow me.
"Perhaps we should." Let's lose the tracker.
They make convincing chatter along the way, Antonia playing the part of a fretting housewife perfectly. Somewhere in the midst a complicated series of turns throughout the streets of Rome, they finally lose the trackers. It's a small mercy within the case, but they'll take what they can get.
"We must be getting back to the hotel soon, dear. Wouldn't want to miss the water aerobics class, would we?" Really, he has no idea on whether or not she intends on attending the water aerobics class, but he agrees with her and takes her by the small of her back in order to lead her back to their hotel.
"Hold on," he grits out under his breath. "There's Miss Teller and Peril." They divert their path towards the couple lingering by the fountain. Gaby is walking around in the clear waters, sometimes pausing to take a drink from the spout of the fish's mouth. Kuryakin seems to have one eye on the surrounding area and the other on Miss Teller.
"You know, we should probably go visit Nonna instead of just sending her a card. I think that she would much appreciate that." She begins a new thread of conversation, subtly tapping his arm twice and running her hand down the length of his arm to catch his fingers in a grasp. Pretending to survey the Spanish Steps, she gives his hand a light squeeze. To any bystander, it would seem as though it was a tender moment between husband and wife.
They're being followed. Two men on the other side of the plaza. Kuryakin is aware.
"She most definitely would, honey," he agrees, drawing an arm around her waist convincingly.
"Oh, look at this beautiful fountain!" It seems as though he doesn't have a choice in going over there, as she's already decided to lead him there by the hand. Removing her stilettos (honestly, he had no idea how she could wear those for such a long time without breaking an ankle) and rolling up her slacks, she dips her feet in and then stands up, reveling in the coolness of the waters.
"Cowboy, you are not supposed to be here," Kuryakin grits out through clenched teeth. At that moment, Antonia 'stumbles' into Gaby, but steadies her before she can tumble down and ruin her dress. For someone with deadly reflexes, she plays a civilian immensely easily.
"Oh, my apologies!" She draws her in for a hug, whispering the news into her ear. The other woman's eyes widen nearly imperceptibly, patting Antonia's back.
"Antonia figured that she should warn Miss Teller as well, Peril," he explains, acting as though he is adjusting his watch.
"She does not believe that I am capable of taking care of my fiancée?" He spits the word out as though it were an acidic poison, pacing a few steps closer to Solo.
"No, we just want to make sure that you know to act as an architect should and that Miss Teller is safe." he elaborates, nonchalantly straightening the crisp, black collar of his blazer. Before Illya can reply, Antonia cuts in.
"Honey, I really think that we should get going. It was nice to meet you Miss Teller, and I do apologize for bumping into you." She climbs out of the fountain and dries her feet off on the nearby towel, then rolls down her slacks and replaces her stilettos. She nods to Illya as she passes, an easy smile stretched across her rouge lips. Be careful with Miss Teller. The message is nearly imperceptible, but it is there.
"And remember, Peril," he leans in dramatically for effect. "take it like a pussy."
Antonia takes him by the arm, leading him in a direction that is decidedly not towards the hotel. They run, winding through the cobblestone streets at a breakneck pace. She takes the opportunity to whisper into his ear, sending chills down his spine.
"We'll watch from a higher vantage point. Step in only if there's trouble that he can't handle, though I doubt there will be any."
And they do. They watch from a terrace high above as Illya is robbed of his wallet and his watch, tensely attempting to control his psychosis. Antonia feels sympathy for the man, as she has experienced the mental illness from a family member as well. It breaks her heart to know that he suffers from it as well.
"Come along, Miss Pellegrini," Napoleon instructs, offering his arm to her. She loops her own through, striding down the steps beside him. Finally, they reach the illuminated streets of Rome. The click of her heels sound like a countdown as they step towards the other pair of misfits.
"Handled that pretty well, didn't you?" The result of Solo's witty remark is a flick to the face by his partner, who looks quite unamused. She's exhausted from her day of travel, without any patience to spare for his shenanigans.
"Quit being rude, Solo." She rocks on her heels, surprisingly managing to avoid falling over.
"Miss Pellegrini," At her look, he amends his words. "Toni, he isn't anything that he can't handle."
"It still doesn't give you the right to be insufferable to Kuryakin." She has to look up to speak to him, but the point still stands. Scoffing and shaking her head, she sticks a hand out for either Gaby or Illya to shake. A genuine, charming smile spreads across her lips at the sight of the other two members of their team watching them cautiously.
"Hello, my name is Antonia Pellegrini, and I apologize for us meeting in this way."
Disclaimer: I don't own The Man From U.N.C.L.E., unforunately.
AN: How was it? I tried to focus on the visual elements of the scenes as well. I don't usually write so descriptively, so I'm proud that I managed to do so. Tell me what you think, please!