Chapter Text
“By the way, did you try to keep up with the fashion in the seventies?’
"No. That’s why I became a fashion designer.”
“Ha! I always knew I had to expect something of a sort from you. Considering your fancies…”
“Would you shut up, please?”
“Ok, ok. Well, I did look really funny in the seventies. I even let my hair grow down! But by the time we met it was all over, of course.”
Illya looked at Napoleon curiously.
“Really? You? With long hair?”
“Yeah. But it wasn’t any longer than that black wig of yours.”
“Hm.”
“I think we should buy one for personal purposes, don’t you think?”
“You’ve got to know that I won’t put it on.”
“Alright, I’ll have it! To keep my memories of you alive if you won’t be near.”
“You dirty pervert.”
They went into a tailor shop.
“Good afternoon, we’re here to take our suits. Thank you, we won’t be needing any help.”
The tailor silently handed them their suits and showed them to a fitting-room.
“You know, I always imagined that I’ll have these sorts of entertainment when I’m older. Fine drinks, Savile Row, expensive cars, travels… But in my thoughts I saw myself with a beautiful young girl or even two, not some short old man like you.”
“And I knew from the moment I met you that you’ll get fat. That’s why I left you then.”
Napoleon lifted his eyebrows and then grinned again.
“But we both couldn’t escape.”
Illya didn’t say anything.
Napoleon took off his jacket and hanged it on a knob. Then he turned to Illya smiling and winked.
“It’s a silly habit.” - said Illya, but couldn’t resist smiling.
“But imagine that we’ll actually uncover an international spy network!”
“Sod off.”
Napoleon smiled again and pulled the left knob down.