The Arabian Affair
As soon as Illya found out that the Arabs thought he was related to T. E. Lawrence, he began hatching a stratagem.
Recall of the movie he had seen with Napoleon was easy enough. Now to weave a story that would convince his captors that he truly was the son of the liaison to Faisal.
For a moment, he pondered how different his life would have been if he had been Lawrence's son. A life in England, little fear of starvation and an early death in the war. Maybe a teaching post at Cambridge, or research. No injuries or scars to tell of those injuries. No killing.
No Napoleon Solo.
He smiled, content with his circumstances.
[116 words]
Bonus Drabble!
"First you make fun of the burnoose -"
"You mean 'dress'?"
"Burnoose, you idiot. It is considered a great honor to wear it, especially for an outsider."
"Oh, my, yes, dear Illya. Such a great honor to dress up like a girl."
"You are hopelessly daft. And then you had the audacity to call me a ... a bunny!"
"Well, that suit you were wearing did bunch up around your, um, bottom. Like a tail. I call 'em like I see 'em. Now hush. Almost done patching you up yet again. Afraid this'll leave a scar."
A scar Illya was fine with having.
[100 words]
