Napoleon wandered the port side tying off ropes, trying to look busy while Illya was on the starboard side heading to the ships managers office to take a look at the passenger lists and cabin assignments.
"Why Napoleon Solo, whatever on earth are you doing here?" A familiar voice spoke from behind him. "And look how you're dressed, tsk. Not up to your usual high standards."
"And where is the insufferable Russian?" Her companion asked, her French accent so obvious.
He sighed, seeing the small pistol hidden behind her purse and aimed straight at him.
"You're not being very nice."