"Awful?" Napoleon hissed. "How many times are you going to insult me over this Illya?"
"As many times as it takes," Kuryakin let the barest of smiles appear. "I said it before and I say it again...your accent is just awful."
"There's nothing wrong with my French!"
"Oh, your French is fine, it is only with your accent that I have a problem."
Napoleon sneered as he followed his partner into the agent conference room. They were there for a meet and greet with several new agents transferring into Section III and IV. Slate and Dancer were already there, as were a few other Section II agents, representing Security was Agent Tom Lopaka, the head of Section V.
One of the newbies, obviously a Frenchwoman as her accent gave her away, caught Napoleon's eye. She was built like an hourglass, with gorgeous chestnut brown hair done in a bouffant. Her eyes were hazel, with flecks of gold and those lips...very kissable.
"Mademoiselle Le Fevre….Napoleon Solo at your service. He whispered a few words to her in French, sending her into a fit of soft laughter.
"Oh Monsieur Solo you are so très drôle! I must say... votre accent est tout simplement adorable! It is a pleasure to hear someone get Québécois just right."
Napoleon was taken aback at first as no one, especially Illya realized that's what he was speaking….Québécois, the French language used in Quebec Canada. It was where his mother was born, and he learned his French from her.
"Merci beaucoup, a great compliment from one so beautiful as yourself." He bowed, kissing her on the hand. "It's not often recognized, and consequently I receive derogatory remarks on my accent."
"Monsieur Solo, your accent is perfect and don't listen to those ignorant buffoons. I must say it reminds me of home, as I do miss it so."
That was his cue, besides her fluttering her long eyelashes at him.
"Perhaps we could discuss home tonight over dinner, sort of a welcome to New York."
"Moi? How kind of you ma cher. Let us say seven o'clock?"
"But of course," Napoleon eyed his glaring partner as Celine Le Fevre left the gathering.
"A bientôt, Napoléon!" She called to him.
"You did not waste time did you?" Illya practically hissed.
"Hey, it's a gift, what can I say? You did hear her compliment my accent tovarisch, didn't you?"
Illya refused to answer and merely walked away.
"Chalk one up for the American," Napoleon chuckled to himself.
"I heard that…do not count your goslings before the eggs are laid, and hatched," Illya called out before heading towards the door.
"That's 'don't count your chickens before they hatch," Napoleon retorted.
Kuryakin huffed and disappeared before his partner came up with one of his annoying puns.
Napoleon began to sing as he followed Illya out the door.
"Alouette, gentile alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai, Aloutette, gentille alouette, Alouette, je te plumerai, Je te plumerai la tete, Je te plumerai la tete, Et la tete
Et la tete Alouett' Alouett'...OOOOOOH...