The smile was brief - of the 'blink and you miss it' variety.

"After lunch perhaps? I fear I can guarantee you will need it, Miss Dancer."

"April."

"Illya. I was on my way to see Mister Slate, but perhaps you would be good enough to fill me in on his injuries?"

"Certainly. And since I prefer not to eat alone, I'll buy you lunch."

Warren groaned and started to move, but froze when the tip of Illya's shoe nudged him.

"I would advise remaining where you are until we depart, Mister Warren."

For once, Warren took the hint.