Story The Meanest Thing Part 8
The Meanest Thing Part 8--------
By Hazelayes
"Mr Solo?"
"Marcie, I distinctly remember that you agreed to call me Napoleon." He waited, but she said nothing else, just looked at him with bright, serious brown eyes. "Or is it still not the right time?"
"No, Mr Solo, not yet awhile. I don't feel comfortable with it. Do you mind?"
"As long as you promise not to make me wait... too long," he purred, dropping into flirt-mode without even thinking... or perhaps noticing? But Marcie felt the vibe immediately and slid slowly round the desk so as to put it between them.
Napoleon smiled to himself.
"I wanted to thank you, Marcie, for letting me know about Mr Sanders."
"Oh, That's okay. I... er.. thought you might not have heard."
"Are you and he..?"
Marcie blushed a little and looked down. Napoleon could see why the lad liked her, she had a natural, unaffected innocence that some men found very attractive. Men like his partner for instance. Illya tended to favour the more... unworldly ones, and seemed to run like a rabbit from the kind he himself liked to party with.
"Yes, we've dated for a while."
"Were you there when..."
"Oh no, Mr Solo." Marcie looked up quickly, shaking her head. "But I wish I had been", her voice rose sharply in volume and pitch, "I'd have given them a few parting gifts, I can tell you."
"I'm sure you would have, Marcie, but Nardini's a big guy."
"He is, but he's got shins and insteps, same as the rest of 'em, not to mention the.. er."
"Unmentionables?" Napoleon purred.
Marcie grinned, and a dimple appeared in her right cheek. Napoleon thought she was delightful. Not only had she just given him confirmation of one of his suspects, she'd shown she had a sense of humour too. Sanders was a man of taste as well as honour.
Then she looked shocked.
"I'm not supposed to talk about it. He made me promise not to tell anyone."
"Who did?"
"Mike did."
"But I know, he told me about it himself, so you're not telling me anything, are you?"
"I guess, but I'm still talking about it aren't I?"
"You talked about it before when you told me to go visit him, didn't you? And he was glad to see me, or so it seemed from where I was standing."
"Oh, yes, Mr Solo. He seemed very bucked up after you called by. He thinks it's a great opportunity for him to be able to come to New York and work alongside you."
"He told you that did he?"
"Yes, you and Mr Kuryakin are legends in UNCLE London, he says."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. That's why he's so angry with them."
"Who?
"Nardini and Brockway!"
"Of course, but wasn't there another guy? What's-his-name...? Er... begins with a C.."
"Crockmore? Oh, Mike said he just held their coats for them, he's a hanger-on... where I come from we'd call his sort a tick."
"And where would that be?" Napoleon smiled widely. She'd sung like a nightingale, and he could kiss her, but that wouldn't be right. Sanders wouldn't like that at all!
The box on the desk gave a warning crackle...
"Mr Solo."
Napoleon leant towards the grille a little and flipped the switch.
"Yes, Mr Waverly... Sir."
"If you've finished your conversation with Miss Coolidge, be so kind as to allow her to bring in my coffee now, please."
Napoleon swept his gaze over the desk he was now perched on the edge of. Oops! he hoped it was still hot.
end of part 8-------
By Hazelayes
"Mr Solo?"
"Marcie, I distinctly remember that you agreed to call me Napoleon." He waited, but she said nothing else, just looked at him with bright, serious brown eyes. "Or is it still not the right time?"
"No, Mr Solo, not yet awhile. I don't feel comfortable with it. Do you mind?"
"As long as you promise not to make me wait... too long," he purred, dropping into flirt-mode without even thinking... or perhaps noticing? But Marcie felt the vibe immediately and slid slowly round the desk so as to put it between them.
Napoleon smiled to himself.
"I wanted to thank you, Marcie, for letting me know about Mr Sanders."
"Oh, That's okay. I... er.. thought you might not have heard."
"Are you and he..?"
Marcie blushed a little and looked down. Napoleon could see why the lad liked her, she had a natural, unaffected innocence that some men found very attractive. Men like his partner for instance. Illya tended to favour the more... unworldly ones, and seemed to run like a rabbit from the kind he himself liked to party with.
"Yes, we've dated for a while."
"Were you there when..."
"Oh no, Mr Solo." Marcie looked up quickly, shaking her head. "But I wish I had been", her voice rose sharply in volume and pitch, "I'd have given them a few parting gifts, I can tell you."
"I'm sure you would have, Marcie, but Nardini's a big guy."
"He is, but he's got shins and insteps, same as the rest of 'em, not to mention the.. er."
"Unmentionables?" Napoleon purred.
Marcie grinned, and a dimple appeared in her right cheek. Napoleon thought she was delightful. Not only had she just given him confirmation of one of his suspects, she'd shown she had a sense of humour too. Sanders was a man of taste as well as honour.
Then she looked shocked.
"I'm not supposed to talk about it. He made me promise not to tell anyone."
"Who did?"
"Mike did."
"But I know, he told me about it himself, so you're not telling me anything, are you?"
"I guess, but I'm still talking about it aren't I?"
"You talked about it before when you told me to go visit him, didn't you? And he was glad to see me, or so it seemed from where I was standing."
"Oh, yes, Mr Solo. He seemed very bucked up after you called by. He thinks it's a great opportunity for him to be able to come to New York and work alongside you."
"He told you that did he?"
"Yes, you and Mr Kuryakin are legends in UNCLE London, he says."
"Really?"
"Oh yes. That's why he's so angry with them."
"Who?
"Nardini and Brockway!"
"Of course, but wasn't there another guy? What's-his-name...? Er... begins with a C.."
"Crockmore? Oh, Mike said he just held their coats for them, he's a hanger-on... where I come from we'd call his sort a tick."
"And where would that be?" Napoleon smiled widely. She'd sung like a nightingale, and he could kiss her, but that wouldn't be right. Sanders wouldn't like that at all!
The box on the desk gave a warning crackle...
"Mr Solo."
Napoleon leant towards the grille a little and flipped the switch.
"Yes, Mr Waverly... Sir."
"If you've finished your conversation with Miss Coolidge, be so kind as to allow her to bring in my coffee now, please."
Napoleon swept his gaze over the desk he was now perched on the edge of. Oops! he hoped it was still hot.
end of part 8-------