(no subject)
Pt 4 TMT. By Hazelayes
Song: Stand by your man. as sung by Tammy Wynette
UNCLE HQ, New York
"I don't care, I've got to say something."
"But what are you gonna say? This is Napoleon Solo... you know, the CEA? You can't go giving advice, unasked, to men like that... Hell, Marcie, you can't go giving MEN advice, period!"
"How long do you think they'll be in there?"
"Why? You think you need to powder your nose or something? Believe me, shiny or not, you stick it in where it don't belong and you're in trouble... with a capital Truh."
"But it's not right..."
"You said a mouthful there, honey, but if Mr Waverly wants to bawl out his top agents for disobeying orders... even if it was for perfectly good reasons... (sigh). Believe me, I'd disobey the Pope hisself for that dreamy Russian..."
"Laura!"
"Well, I would too. He's so..."
"I don't know what you're talking about..."
"Oh yeah? I've seen you looking plenty, Marcie Coolidge..."
"No, I..."
One shapely bottom slid off the desk and the other swivelled the seat it sat on as the door to Mr Waverly's office opened and the agents in question strode out, the blond in front for once, but only barely. They looked like they were in shock. Solo's lips were pursed like he'd a bad taste in his mouth (maybe he'd had to swallow some nasty medicine Marcie thought) and Kuryakin looked like he might be going to be sick sometime soon.
Oh well, in for a penny...
"Mr Solo!"
There was a sharp little "oh!" from Laura, now head down inside a filing cabinet and digging for China, but Marcie payed her no mind... she'd decided, and he would be told!
"Mr Solo, if I could speak with you a moment?"
Both men stopped and turned to her. Their expressions didn't change and the way they moved! Like the parts of a locomotive her dad had taken her to see when she was a child... Marcie began to regret her impetuous nature. Her mother always said her meddlesome ways would...
"Marcie, isn't it?"
She nodded and felt the colour rising up her throat, but her gaze was on Kuryakin. The blue eyes flickered, quick, like the tongue of a snake. "I shall be in the lab." And he was gone.
"Mr Solo... I'm sorry to b..
"Marcie, please, call me Napoleon."
"No, I... thank you.. that is, I will... probably. But it's easier now if I don't?"
"As you wish. What is it?"
Mr Solo, I think you should go visit Pete Sanders."
Napoleon blinked.
"Go visit?"
"Yes. Visit." Her arms folded themselves across her breasts... she didn't do that! Honestly!
"Do I take it that there is a purpose to such a visit? Beyond neighbourliness... and all?
"Just you go see him," she persisted, her lovely mouth set firm, "you'll find out why."
Napoleon didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed at being ordered about, again, but there was something in her stance that echoed from way back. A voice that said 'You'd better do it, Napoleon Anthony Solo' .
The sleek head reared back and he looked about to say something but Marcie cut him off.
"Infirmary. Been there since last night. It's the least you can do."
Napoleon stared hard at her for a full two seconds and she bit her lip to keep herself from saying any more. Then he looked at his watch.
"I shall go immediately, thank you for telling me." And bowing very slightly from the waist he offered his hand.
Well she had to put hers forward, didn't she? It just wouldn't be right not to be polite... Fascinated and slightly horrified, she watched as her hand disappeared between his. Strength, warmth, and an intense sensation of something else... connection? made her eyes widen. Then he let go.
A filing cabinet drawer slammed, making Marcie jump, and she found herself standing alone (apart from the watching Laura) with her hand in mid air.
"Well, WHAT was THAT all about?" Laura's voice sounded sharp.
Marcie's mouth lifted in a half smile and she tilted her head.
"T'ain't none a your beeswax, Laura May. Just a bit a business I had to take care of wi' Mr Solo, m'kay?"
"You're a crazy woman, you know that? A CRAZY woman."
Marcie sat down at her desk again. A light came on and she reached forward to toggle the switch.
"Yes, Mr Waverly?"
The clipped English accent of Number 1, Section 1, UNCLE New York, enquired mildly whether Mr Kuryakin was "still in the vicinity".
On being told that Mr Kuryakin had returned to the laboratory, he asked that he be contacted and told to report to Mr Waverly at once.
"Of course, Mr Waverly."
"I'll go," Laura trilled over her shoulder, and she almost ran out of the door.
end of part 4-----------
Song: Stand by your man. as sung by Tammy Wynette
UNCLE HQ, New York
"I don't care, I've got to say something."
"But what are you gonna say? This is Napoleon Solo... you know, the CEA? You can't go giving advice, unasked, to men like that... Hell, Marcie, you can't go giving MEN advice, period!"
"How long do you think they'll be in there?"
"Why? You think you need to powder your nose or something? Believe me, shiny or not, you stick it in where it don't belong and you're in trouble... with a capital Truh."
"But it's not right..."
"You said a mouthful there, honey, but if Mr Waverly wants to bawl out his top agents for disobeying orders... even if it was for perfectly good reasons... (sigh). Believe me, I'd disobey the Pope hisself for that dreamy Russian..."
"Laura!"
"Well, I would too. He's so..."
"I don't know what you're talking about..."
"Oh yeah? I've seen you looking plenty, Marcie Coolidge..."
"No, I..."
One shapely bottom slid off the desk and the other swivelled the seat it sat on as the door to Mr Waverly's office opened and the agents in question strode out, the blond in front for once, but only barely. They looked like they were in shock. Solo's lips were pursed like he'd a bad taste in his mouth (maybe he'd had to swallow some nasty medicine Marcie thought) and Kuryakin looked like he might be going to be sick sometime soon.
Oh well, in for a penny...
"Mr Solo!"
There was a sharp little "oh!" from Laura, now head down inside a filing cabinet and digging for China, but Marcie payed her no mind... she'd decided, and he would be told!
"Mr Solo, if I could speak with you a moment?"
Both men stopped and turned to her. Their expressions didn't change and the way they moved! Like the parts of a locomotive her dad had taken her to see when she was a child... Marcie began to regret her impetuous nature. Her mother always said her meddlesome ways would...
"Marcie, isn't it?"
She nodded and felt the colour rising up her throat, but her gaze was on Kuryakin. The blue eyes flickered, quick, like the tongue of a snake. "I shall be in the lab." And he was gone.
"Mr Solo... I'm sorry to b..
"Marcie, please, call me Napoleon."
"No, I... thank you.. that is, I will... probably. But it's easier now if I don't?"
"As you wish. What is it?"
Mr Solo, I think you should go visit Pete Sanders."
Napoleon blinked.
"Go visit?"
"Yes. Visit." Her arms folded themselves across her breasts... she didn't do that! Honestly!
"Do I take it that there is a purpose to such a visit? Beyond neighbourliness... and all?
"Just you go see him," she persisted, her lovely mouth set firm, "you'll find out why."
Napoleon didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed at being ordered about, again, but there was something in her stance that echoed from way back. A voice that said 'You'd better do it, Napoleon Anthony Solo' .
The sleek head reared back and he looked about to say something but Marcie cut him off.
"Infirmary. Been there since last night. It's the least you can do."
Napoleon stared hard at her for a full two seconds and she bit her lip to keep herself from saying any more. Then he looked at his watch.
"I shall go immediately, thank you for telling me." And bowing very slightly from the waist he offered his hand.
Well she had to put hers forward, didn't she? It just wouldn't be right not to be polite... Fascinated and slightly horrified, she watched as her hand disappeared between his. Strength, warmth, and an intense sensation of something else... connection? made her eyes widen. Then he let go.
A filing cabinet drawer slammed, making Marcie jump, and she found herself standing alone (apart from the watching Laura) with her hand in mid air.
"Well, WHAT was THAT all about?" Laura's voice sounded sharp.
Marcie's mouth lifted in a half smile and she tilted her head.
"T'ain't none a your beeswax, Laura May. Just a bit a business I had to take care of wi' Mr Solo, m'kay?"
"You're a crazy woman, you know that? A CRAZY woman."
Marcie sat down at her desk again. A light came on and she reached forward to toggle the switch.
"Yes, Mr Waverly?"
The clipped English accent of Number 1, Section 1, UNCLE New York, enquired mildly whether Mr Kuryakin was "still in the vicinity".
On being told that Mr Kuryakin had returned to the laboratory, he asked that he be contacted and told to report to Mr Waverly at once.
"Of course, Mr Waverly."
"I'll go," Laura trilled over her shoulder, and she almost ran out of the door.
end of part 4-----------