Short Affair - A Slight Detour
Short Affair Challenge 6/20/21
Title: A Slight Detour
Words: 542
Prompts: Begin, Map, Blue
"Okay, should we begin again?"
Napoleon slowly raised his head from where it had been resting on his crossed arms. He let out a sigh, wishing for the hundredth time that he'd simply taken the day off. He was due more than a few vacation days anyway.
"I've already explained," he said. "In fact, we've been over this at least a dozen times now. Why don't you call Mr. Waverly and confirm my story?"
The other UNCLE agent frowned, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "We tried. He wasn't available when we called before. I'll try again in an hour."
"Excellent. And in the meantime, might I suggest we move to somewhere more comfortable than this interrogation room?" Napoleon said. "We've only been sitting in here for two hours already."
The young agent shook his head. "Just a precaution," he assured him. "It's protocol."
Napoleon gave up trying to negotiate better accommodations. It would figure that the only UNCLE station in the area was manned by a tiny contingent of mostly inexperienced or semi-retired agents. The fact that they hadn't even been able to verify Napoleon's identity yet said a lot for the efficiency level of this team.
His interrogator -- and that was using the term generously -- sat down on the other side of the metal table. Perching a pair of glasses on his nose, he pulled out his notebook and flipped back several pages. "Okay, the part that's still confusing me is how you ended up in that underground poker game in the first place? Or how you met the countess? None of the details you gave me about your assignment lines up with how we found you."
Napoleon cleared his throat. "Yes, well, things didn't quite go according to plan. We were forced to improvise a little."
"Including breaking into the art gallery?" the agent asked, continuing to page through his notes, an increasingly confused expression settling over his face. "That is quite a detour from your original assignment."
The door swung open before he could respond, squeaking back on steel hinges. The smell of pizza and coffee wafted in from the adjoining room.
"Excuse me," the rookie said, jumping to his feet. "How did you get in here? There's an interrogation going on in here--"
"Yes, so I noticed," Illya stated, blue eyes flicking briefly to his partner. "Sorry I was delayed in getting here. I've brought Mr. Solo's agency ID cards and paperwork; that should clear things up. Your partner is in the next room looking over everything."
"Oh." The agent glanced between them for a moment, obviously unsure how to handle the news that his 'prisoner' wasn't a dangerous criminal after all. "In that case," he said at last, "I'll go check that paperwork. If everything's in order, Mr. Solo, obviously you're free to go. Please just wait here another moment."
Napoleon pushed himself out of the hard chair, legs stiff after the hours of sitting still. "Next time," he muttered to his partner. "You get to be questioned for two hours while I finish up the assignment. After all, this whole mess was your fault."
Illya raised an eyebrow questioningly. "My fault? And how did you come to that conclusion?"
"Because, you were the one holding the map!"
Title: A Slight Detour
Words: 542
Prompts: Begin, Map, Blue
"Okay, should we begin again?"
Napoleon slowly raised his head from where it had been resting on his crossed arms. He let out a sigh, wishing for the hundredth time that he'd simply taken the day off. He was due more than a few vacation days anyway.
"I've already explained," he said. "In fact, we've been over this at least a dozen times now. Why don't you call Mr. Waverly and confirm my story?"
The other UNCLE agent frowned, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "We tried. He wasn't available when we called before. I'll try again in an hour."
"Excellent. And in the meantime, might I suggest we move to somewhere more comfortable than this interrogation room?" Napoleon said. "We've only been sitting in here for two hours already."
The young agent shook his head. "Just a precaution," he assured him. "It's protocol."
Napoleon gave up trying to negotiate better accommodations. It would figure that the only UNCLE station in the area was manned by a tiny contingent of mostly inexperienced or semi-retired agents. The fact that they hadn't even been able to verify Napoleon's identity yet said a lot for the efficiency level of this team.
His interrogator -- and that was using the term generously -- sat down on the other side of the metal table. Perching a pair of glasses on his nose, he pulled out his notebook and flipped back several pages. "Okay, the part that's still confusing me is how you ended up in that underground poker game in the first place? Or how you met the countess? None of the details you gave me about your assignment lines up with how we found you."
Napoleon cleared his throat. "Yes, well, things didn't quite go according to plan. We were forced to improvise a little."
"Including breaking into the art gallery?" the agent asked, continuing to page through his notes, an increasingly confused expression settling over his face. "That is quite a detour from your original assignment."
The door swung open before he could respond, squeaking back on steel hinges. The smell of pizza and coffee wafted in from the adjoining room.
"Excuse me," the rookie said, jumping to his feet. "How did you get in here? There's an interrogation going on in here--"
"Yes, so I noticed," Illya stated, blue eyes flicking briefly to his partner. "Sorry I was delayed in getting here. I've brought Mr. Solo's agency ID cards and paperwork; that should clear things up. Your partner is in the next room looking over everything."
"Oh." The agent glanced between them for a moment, obviously unsure how to handle the news that his 'prisoner' wasn't a dangerous criminal after all. "In that case," he said at last, "I'll go check that paperwork. If everything's in order, Mr. Solo, obviously you're free to go. Please just wait here another moment."
Napoleon pushed himself out of the hard chair, legs stiff after the hours of sitting still. "Next time," he muttered to his partner. "You get to be questioned for two hours while I finish up the assignment. After all, this whole mess was your fault."
Illya raised an eyebrow questioningly. "My fault? And how did you come to that conclusion?"
"Because, you were the one holding the map!"