Slovo - serebro, molchaniye - zoloto (Words are silver, silence is golden)
Napoleon swung into their shared room long after midnight with a spring in his step and a song in his heart. The night was mild, the food delectable, the wine plentiful and the company exquisite. Add to that the success of their mission, and his world was a perfect place to be.
A fact that he was more than happy to share with Illya.
Even if he was sleeping.
"I'm telling you," he continued to wax lyrical, ignoring baleful glares, "her voice was amazing, like the chiming of silver bells..."
"Words are silver," groused Illya, "But silence, Napoleon, is golden."