From his hospital bed, Illya stared at the window and the drops of rain running down it. The day was grey and dismal - much like his mood. A fellow agent was dead - killed when he got between Illya and a THRUSH bullet - but that hadn't been intentional. No, the THRUSH shooter had unknowingly prevented one UNCLE agent from killing another one.
In one sense, it didn't bother Illya much - he trusted very, very few individuals. In another sense, it bothered him a great deal. He barely even knew the man - Warren? Warrick? Whoever he was, there had not been enough interaction that it would have been something personal. Did the man have something against Russians? Blondes? Accents? Had he been working under a threat? A bribe?
A soft knock at the door was immediately followed by Napoleon's head peeking in. The rest of his partner followed when he saw Illya was awake.
"Ready to clear out of here, Pal? The doctor has agreed that you've terrorized the interns enough for this stay."
"As soon as I have something resembling clothing to put on."
The deadpan tone of voice had Napoleon frowning, but instead of remarking on it, he produced a small travel bag and offered it over. He paused as he gave Illya's various bandages and bruises a critical gaze.
"Need a hand changing?"
"Possibly. I believe I can handle a pullover by myself, but if you have brought a button-down shirt, that might be a problem."
The smile was a bit exaggerated as Napoleon unzipped the bag and removed the black turtleneck with a flourish.
"I even grabbed loafers so you don't have to deal with shoelaces until your dexterity returns."
"If it returns. Would you assist me with undoing the ties of this hospital gown?"
Flexing his hands, Illya gave his fingers his own critical glance before taking the turtleneck from Napoleon.
"Sure thing. And give it some time, chum. The doctor said the numbness is a side effect from that new knock-out stuff THRUSH used on you."
Huffing as his head emerged from the dark material, Illya pulled the hem of the shirt down.
"I would be most pleased if THRUSH would increase their budget and use some laboratory rats instead of me to test their products on."
"Rats don't swear with the same flair that you have."
Napoleon moved without comment to assist as needed with the rest of Illya's clothing, using an economy of movement that his partner appreciated. Illya also appreciated that Napoleon was avoiding the subject of the dead rogue agent.
"Say, do you think your fingers would operate well enough to handle chopsticks?"
A faint smile formed as Illya slipped on one of the loafers.
"That is an oddly specific question, Napoleon, but... I think so."
Grinning broadly, Napoleon clapped his hands together.
"Excellent! Then I wouldn't be teasing you when I offer to buy you dinner at the new Chinese place that opened near my apartment."
The faint smile grew as Illya slowly got to his feet.
"The only way you can tease me with food is to offer it and then retract the offer. After days of THRUSH rations and hospital food, even plain fried rice would be a feast."
Draping an arm over his partner's shoulder, Napoleon steered him toward the door.
"Oh, I think we can manage more than fried rice. Though I'm pretty sure that's included in the eight-course banquet I ordered. I hope you don't mind me taking the liberty of assuming you'd be hungry."
Blue eyes practically gleaming, Illya shook his head.
"You can rarely go wrong in assuming that I will be hungry, my friend. Eight courses?"
"So they claim. It will be my first time eating there as well, but they come highly recommended. Mrs. Waverly, no less."
"As she is a woman of flawless taste, I look forward to it."
The drive to the restaurant was filled with genial conversation as Napoleon caught Illya up on the gossip from around the office - fresh from April. Once they parked, the smell coming from the restaurant made both of their stomaches rumble in anticipation.
"The Jade Lotus. If the taste is even half as pleasant as the aroma, you will have a very happy Russian."
"No time like the present to find out."
Illya was not surprised that Napoleon had a reservation given that he had said he had already ordered. What did surprise him was that they were being led to a private room. One that was already occupied.
April came over immediately and kissed Illya's cheek.
"Happy birthday, darling. Did we manage to surprise you?"
Illya did look surprised as he looked over at Napoleon.
"My birthday is not until three days from now."
Chuckling, Napoleon nudged Illya further into the room.
"Well, I figured it was close enough to celebrate. Since you'll still be on desk duty on the actual day, we'll treat you to lunch then."
Giving a small laugh, Illya reached out to take Mark's offered hand and the four friends settled down at the table as the first course came through the door along with hot pots of green tea. The platter of steaming char siu with crispy spring rolls to the side was a promising start. Playing host, Napoleon quickly had a plate in front of everyone.
"Remember, seven more courses after this one, so pace yourselves. I won't take the blame for your wardrobe, April."
"I had a light lunch in anticipation of tonight, darling. And if I have to deal wtih cottage cheese and grapefruit tomorrow, I still think this will be worth it. It smells divine."
Mark didn't waste time smelling when he could be eating.
"Tastes divine as well, luv."
Illya just nodded his agreement as his mouth was full. After swallowing and making a small sigh of pleasure, he picked up one of the pots, checked the brew, and began to pour for everyone. Mark started to drink, but hesitated when the scent tickled his nose.
"Thank you, Illya. This... this isn't standard green tea, is it?"
Taking a small sip, Illya glanced in the pot again and took a long sniff.
"Lotus. I associate that more with Vietnam than China, but it is very nice."
Taking a sip after Illya, Mark smiled.
"Never had this before, but you're right. It's very nice indeed."
The second course was a soup made from winter melon, crab, dried scallops, and bits of other seafood. The thick broth was tasty and satisfying.
"You know, this reminds me a bit of shark fin soup."
April paused with her spoon partway to her mouth.
"Shark fin? Illya,.. is there anything you won't eat?"
A small shrug was part of his answer."
"There are few things I will not at least try. However, there are some things I would not care for a second helping of. Still, were I hungry enough, I would eat."
She gave that a moment of thought, then nodded.
"Sensible."
Her spoon continued its trip to her mouth and she decided that, should the opportunity present itself, she would try shark fin soup.
The conversation was sparse during both the third course (prawn and clams in a spicy sauce with scattered cashews) and the fourth (crispy seasame chicken) - just requests for passing the communal bowl of fried rice or a refill of tea. But Mark noticed the way Illya was rubbing his hands as the plates were being cleared away.
"Is the numbness starting to fade?"
Glancing over, Illya gave Mark a wry smile.
"It is, but it is being replaced with an annoying feeling that I can only describe as the sensation of pinpricks."
April wrinkled her nose.
"In other words, a step in the right direction, but irritating."
"Exactly."
April scooted closer and gently began to massage Illya's left hand for him while the fifth course - fish - was brought in. It was grilled turbot served with a variety of pickled vegetables. Mark took over the tea pouring duties as Illya picked his chopsticks up a bit awkwardly. Napoleon gave a concerned look.
"Can you manage alright, chum?"
"It will not be my most graceful meal, but I believe I can get my food from the plate to my mouth without too much difficulty."
Mark topped off Illya's teacup, He ignored Illya's two failed attempts to pick up the fish and refrained from speaking until the third, successful attempt.
"Getting it to the mouth is all that really counts, mate. You know, my Gram had a deft hand with knitting needles. I bet she could have mastered these things better than I have. I don't know that I'd have learned to use them at all if it hadn't been for that village we got stuck in. Eating with fingers was considered horribly rude, so it was learn to use them or live off soup."
"Hunger is a great motivator."
Only nods responded to Illya's comment as the fish course was eaten down to the bone. A small break followed as the teapots were replaced with fresh ones. One pot was emptied as they chatted about the newest show to open on Broadway.
"So, are we all agreed we'll try for tickets to see it?"
Mark nodded as April agreed.
"I'm in, Napoleon. I loved Joel Grey in 'Cabaret', so seeing him playing George M. Cohen should be great."
Illya polished off his current cup of tea thoughtfully.
"George M. Cohen... he was a songwriter, yes?"
April nodded.
"As well as being a performer. I think he was practically born on a stage."
The sixth course was brought in as Mark refilled cups again - abalone with bean curd and mixed vegetables. April approved of the amounts of vegetables that had been a large part of their servings.
"Very tasty and nowhere near as heavy as I feared. I think my wardrobe is safe."
All three men wisely refrained from comment as there were still two courses to go and the last was bound to be a dessert of some sort. The seventh course proved to be braised ee fu noodles mixed with seafood, leeks, mushrooms, and carrots - all glazed with a light, flavorful sauce. April only took a small amount - regretfully, but she knew she'd never have room for the final course otherwise. Her dinner companions had no problem dividing up the surplus.
To April's great delight, the dessert course was mixed offerings - fresh fruit, red bean paste with seasame dumplings, and - oddly enough - scones with clotted cream and strawberry perserves. She stuck mainly with the fruit, but couldn't resist taking one of the scones as well. Those were a rare treat in New York.
While the others sat back and sipped their last cups of tea, Napoleon quietly took care of the bill and came back smiling.
"Say, partner - instead of lunch, what would you think abput coming back here on your real birthday for High Tea?"
"They serve High Tea? That would explain the scones, I suppose. And yes. That would be quite enjoyable. Those scones were excellent. As was this meal. Thank you so much."
"April, Mark - you're invited as well if you're still in town."
"Oh, we will be, Remember, Mark is still on desk duty until his cracked rib is signed off by the medical team. Which won't happen until a couple of days past Illya's birthday, at the earliest."
"Glad to hear it... errr... not that you're still on the disabled list, but that you're so close to getting off of it."
"Nice save, Napoleon."
"Thank you, Mark."
A good meal, with another that should be equally delicious in the future, and good friends. Even though he hadn't had a cake to blow out the candles on, Illya thought his birthday wish was already well covered.