Illya was more than ready to find out what THURSH was located in the city and what they were up too, the welcoming gift they had just received had piqued his interest.
"Napoleon, I am going out, there is a night club across the street that I noticed as we were arriving. I believe it might be a good place to start looking for THURSH types," Illya said, he was looking in the bathroom mirror straightening his tie.
"I'll go with you," Napoleon said. He wasn't so sure he could feel safe in the room alone now that their enemies had said 'hello' and he wasn't feeling that well.
"How is your head?" Illya asked. He walked out of the bathroom and looked at his partner.
"The powders haven't kicked in yet but I'll be alright," Napoleon assured.
Illya studied him a moment before speaking. "Alright. Let us go," he said.
Napoleon followed Illya as they exited the hotel and crossed the busy street. The night club was far being crowded but it had its share of men and women dancing and people drinking, they walked up to the bar looking around, the bartender kept a very close eye on them as he wiped down the bar and an older man who was either American or European was slowly sipping a whiskey. Napoleon heard Illya order a vodka and knew his Russian cohort was scanning for signs of THURSH, Napoleon himself was wishing he had never left the room, his headache had become second to nausea. It had hit him as they crossed the street, slight at first but now crippling, he tried to put off throwing up but he feared he couldn't do that much longer.
Illya looked over at his partner who seemed to be trying to be trying very hard to keep himself together, one hand gripping to the edge of the bar, knuckles white, sweat beads forming on his forehead and his breathing increasing. "Napoleon-"
Napoleon made a run for the street, not quite making it out he hit his knees at the entrance of the night club and empited his stomach, panting for breath a few moments before puking again. Both Illya and the older man at the bar moved to Napoleon's aid while the bartender watched on.
"Napoleon are you alright? I didn't think you should leave the room tonight," Illya said, standing over his partner.
"Here, may I be of assistance? I am a doctor," the older man said. He had a polished English accent, he bend down to Napoleon.
"Perhaps. My friend here as been ill ever since we started on our trip," Illya explained.
Napoleon felt weak and collapsed back away from his vomit, sweat poured off of him as the doctor placed a hand on his forehead looking concerned.
"Can we get him to the hotel across the street? That is where I am staying," the doctor said.
"It is where we are staying as well. I believe we can both handle him," Illya said.
Illya got Napoleon under one arm and the doctor got him under the other and they got him over to the hotel and back to his room. They laid him out on the bed and Illya helped him out of his coat, the doctor began checking his pulse, Napoleon hadn't said anything as all this happened- he felt awful.
"His heart rate is up, very high," the doctor said.
"Do you know of a hospital? Perhaps he should be taken to one," Illya said.
"Yes I know of one, but I do not think he can be moved right now. Let me get back my bag, my room is just down the hall, oh my name is Dr. Leo Dane of Britain by the way," he said.
"Very well. I am Illya Kuryakin and your patient is Napoleon Solo," Illya quickly introduced.
The doctor left and Illya looked down at Napoleon who was ghastly pale now and still sweating, Illya touched his forehead but it wasn't hot.
"Napoleon, are you hot?" Illya asked him.
"No. I feel faint, Illya," Napoleon replied. His hand reaching out for Illya, searching for some comfort in his sudden onset of illness.
Illya didn't take it, he noticed smoking flooding in through the air vents of both their rooms, he moved to open the balcony door but started to cough and fell like a dead weight on the floor.