Title is the prompt for this Man from UNCLE drabble.


Illya slid as his dress shoes lost traction on the slick marble.  He managed, somehow, to keep his feet.  Then, he continued around the corner and down the steps.  At the base, he barely paused to check for traffic before rushing across the street.  A moment later, he was ducking into the little shop where he finally stopped to catch his breath.

“All right, chum?” Napoleon asked, his eyes wide.

Nodding, Illya said, “We’ve got company coming.”  He gave Napoleon a wry smile.  “It was a bit of a race to see who’d get here first.”

“Good thing you won.”


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