It was Friday night, and Napoleon and Illya were relaxing in a bar downtown. The bossa nova was playing, and Illya was drinking vodka while watching his partner dance with a beautiful blonde.
Suddenly the Russian jumped to his feet and sprang at Napoleon's dance partner, knocking her against the wall.
"Hey! What the hell did you do that for?" Napoleon asked angrily.
"I just saved you, my friend," Illya replied. "You were too full of lust to notice, but I recognized her. She is a THRUSH agent, my friend. That fountain pen she carried was really a hypodermic needle. She was just about to inject you with it when I jumped in."
"So how many lunches do I owe you now?" Napoleon grinned sheepishly. "I've lost count."
"But I have not."
As the two men left the bar together, it was once again driven home to them that they could never let their guard down for even a second, not even when they were enjoying themselves...downtown.