"What the hell is that chirping? And what bird does that at night?"Napoleon demanded as it was one in the morning, while he tried to make himself more comfortable on the sofa, unable to sleep because of the noise.

He and his partner were stuck in a safe house in the middle of an underdeveloped part of New Jersey, guarding a higher ranking THRUSH operative with close ties to Central, who'd decided to defect to U.N.C.L.E. now that he was approaching retirement age.

He was well aware that a gold pocket watch and a send off banquet didn't lead to a snug hideaway on a tropical island. It was standard procedure to execute those leaving T.H.R.U.S.H. though a ruse was maintained by Central to make their agents believe they'd get a nice secluded place as part of their retirement package.

"That is not chirping," Illya said, leaning back in an easy chair, his choice of sleeping place, as their charge had the only bedroom. It was either the chair or the floor since Napoleon had called first dibs on the couch. "It is Mimus polyglottos, a bird of the Mimidae family known as a Northern mockingbird."

"Okay here we go..." Napoleon rolled his eyes, knowing he was in for a lecture, and mentally kicked himself for asking his questions.

"Mockingbirds are known for their habit of mimicking the songs of other birds, andthe sounds of insects as well as some amphibians. They often do it loudly and in rapid succession, singing in the late hours through dawn, though there are some who will sing during the daylight hours. Did you know there are seventeen species in three genera? These do not appear to form a monophyletic lineage: Mimus and Nesomimus are closely related; though their closest living relatives appear to be some thrashers, such as the Sage Thrasher. Melanotis is more distinct as it seems to represent a very ancient basal lineage of Mimidae"

Illya looked over with amusement in his blue eyes at his partner who was now sound asleep; he knew the little lecture on mockingbirds undoubtedly finally lulled him to sleep. His lectures had that sort of effect on Napoleon, though he had no idea, as they were usually on fascinating subjects.

"Better a Mimus polyglottos than a Turdidae," Illya mused to himself. One THRUSH in the bedroom was enough.

The Russian snuggled into his chair as best he could, pulling a throw blanket up over him as smiled, listening to the pleasant bird song outside the cabin as he closed his own eyes and drifted off himself.