Monday afternoon, Illya and Napoleon were visiting with Aunt Amy. They had flown in from Paris the day before and had a few days free before returning to the office. They had surprised her and taken her to lunch at the Café des Artistes. They were having such a good time, she had invited them up to her place for tea.

"Aunt Amy," Illya said as he sipped more tea, "Was that the first time you had gone to the Café?"

"Oh no, my darling Albert used to take me there all the time! It's my favorite place. I love the Lobster Thermidor."

The Russian's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I did not see that on the menu."

"That's because it's only on the dinner menu, Dear. Did you enjoy your Croque Monsieur?"

"I did, but probably not as much as your nephew did his Eggplant Napoleon." He leaned in and stage – whispered, "He is a bit of narcissist, you know." He smiled as the older woman giggled at his silliness. He adored her.

"I heard that, you know," the object of his teasing said from across the room where he was approaching his aunt's grand piano. He walked around to the purple - cushioned bench and opened it. "Oh, you still have some of my music in here!"

Illya's eyes widened. "You never mentioned you play piano! Do you play like you sing?"

"Nooo!" Aunt Amy responded. "He plays beautifully! Ooo, that didn't come out quite the way I meant it!"

Napoleon grinned as he closed the bench and sat upon it. "Are you sure there's only tea in those cups?" he asked as he placed sheet music on the piano. "Let's see if I can still handle Schumann." He started off a bit shakily, but very quickly started to regain his confidence and the notes began to flow smoothly.

Illya and Aunt Amy sat transfixed as Napoleon closed his eyes and played from memory. His fingers moved across the keys gracefully sending the deceptively simple sounding melody throughout the apartment mesmerizing the other two occupants. He played the entire piece and when he finished, he sat with his hands still poised on the keys.

Illya looked at Aunt Amy and was shocked to see tears streaming down her face. He snatched Napoleon's pocket square from his jacket where he had lain it across the couch and handed it to her. His own emotions had been stirred by the music. "Are you all right?" he whispered.

"Of course. It's just…when he was a boy, Napoleon used to play for me. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it."

"I have to say, Napoleon, that I have heard several renditions of 'Kinderszenen opus fifteen' and that was the most…heartfelt. I am truly impressed."

Napoleon looked at his aunt and partner and smiled. "Well, thank you! I thought if my playing evoked any tears it would have been because it was atrocious. Since you liked that so much, let me play this." He turned back and began banging out 'Chopsticks."

The Russian rolled his eyes and groaned, "There is the Napoleon I know! I am leaving."

Aunt Amy put her arm through his. "Don't you dare! Napoleon, play something else we all can enjoy."

He stood, reopened the bench and removed the sheet music. He handed it to his aunt and kissed her forehead. "I'll play whatever you like." He looked at Illya and quickly ruffled his hair, causing the smaller man to scowl. "You get no choice."

"As long as you do not sing, I will be satisfied."