Fandom: The Man from U.N.C.L.E.
Word Count: 345
Napoleon looked on in shock as Illya raised the woman lightly over his head. It wasn’t the fact that he could lift her he knew how unusually strong his slightly-built partner was it was where he had placed his hands that was impressive.
I worked with the Kirov Ballet Company to help pay for college, Illya grunted. He held her steady, but the lady was by no means light as a swan. She was, however, able to reach the rope attached to the ladder which would help them escape from the oubliette.
The broadness of your education never ceases to amaze me, tovarich.
Illya lowered the lady, but the ladder only descended a few feet before it gave a rusty complaint and froze. Illya instructed her to release the rope, and with a jump he managed to catch it. Swinging, he hauled on it with all his weight, but the ladder only shuddered and refused to move.
Napoleon stepped in. Excuse me. He wrapped his arms around Illya’s legs and pulled. The ladder finally descended and Illya wound up sitting on Napoleon’s broad shoulder, one hand on the bottom rung.
Well done, Napoleon. Illya pulled himself onto the ladder to keep the spring from drawing it back up. Help the lady up, would you?
The ballerina laughed as Napoleon took her by the waist and raised her to the lower rung, where Illya waited to steady her. Soubresaut! Tres bien! She cried as she kissed Illya on the cheek.
Illya blushed. Pointing upward, he said, Échappé! Vite, vite!
You should have stayed with it, Illya, Napoleon said enviously, as he watched the woman ascend gracefully. Why did you quit?
I wasn’t getting enough sleep. Leaving Napoleon wearing a look of incredulity, Illya climbed up the ladder after the girl.
Napoleon started after them a heartbeat later, calling up hopefully, Do you think the position is still open?