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]