The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
'The Watch'
by Dr Spleenmeister
"Darling, give him the watch," her tone is light, affected; he knows she is acting and doing a damn good job of appearing unafraid.
"And the ring." The mugger gets cocky, having spied the glint of diamond on her finger. Gaby looks at the mugger, her gaze cold and unflinching, "Hmph." She slides off the ring, hands it over and looks at Ilya sideways.
"Thank you" The mugger's smile is greasy and unpleasant; Gaby's spine crawls and she nods her head towards the mugger, looking Ilya in the eye as she does so.
Ilya shakes his head, imperceptibly; every fibre of his being is demanding that he fight back – he can't 'take it like a pussy', despite his ridiculous instruction from Napoleon Solo. His fists clench and unclench at his sides.
"Give me THE WATCH" The mugger slaps Ilya, despite the Russian being a clear head taller then him – he has sensed that he will get away with pushing harder, and maybe a quick fence on the ring will get him enough cash on the side to pay for something other than coffee later on, once his work for the night is concluded.
"Give him the watch!" The taller mugger also slaps Ilya, this guy isn't interested in the money he can make tonight, he just wants to break some faces, preferably non-Italian.
Ilya blinks, his hand trembles, his pulse thunders in his ears.
Gaby snarls at him, becoming impatient, "Ilya, do. As. He. Says."
Ilya's increasingly glazed gaze flicks to the taller mugger, who glares at him in response, his moustachioed lip curling into a sneer.
Ilya hesitates, then the fingers of his right hand, as if controlled by a robot, unfasten the warm leather clasped around his left wrist; he hands the beloved timepiece to the shorter mugger. The mugger snatches it and spits in Ilya's face.
He's lucky not to lose his teeth then and there.
The muggers both laugh in his face, the shorter mugger abruptly dropping backwards as Ilya snaps an unthinking, concussive blow to his throat. The taller mugger has faster reflexes than his now-choking companion, and a pistol appears in his hand, the safety audibly clicking off as it does so.
Ilya freezes in place, torn between defending his honour and protecting his charge, who has suddenly thrown herself against him in an attempt to hold him in check. The mugger edges by him, retrieving his friend and retreating into the shadows.
Gaby is still holding him tightly, her voice clear and commanding, slicing through the red haze, "Calm. Down."
Ilya blinks again, struggling to hold onto Gaby's surprisingly calming presence, he can feel his hands still trembling, he wants to chase the muggers down, to claim back his father's watch and his woman's ring, to beat those grubby little Italians into mulch, to -
"Ilya."
Her smooth, calm voice and the hand that she flattens against his chest, over his jack-hammering heart finally pushes through the cold rage, and he takes a trembling breath. He looks down at her and is abruptly caught in her unwavering gaze. He blinks again, takes another breath…
Gaby pushes him back, creating space between them as Solo appears from around the corner, where he undoubtedly witnessed most, if not all, of what had just happened.
"Not very good at this whole 'subtly' thing, are you?"