"Buon giorno, Max!" he says, slapping 68 on the back. "[Oh, you grew a goatee? Very impressive. You know sometimes I think I should grow a mustache. What do you think? Would I look nice with a mustache?]"
She yoinks her non-alcoholic beverage of choice (today it's ginger ale - although she might start with the cranberry juice if this stalking keeps up) from the Bar and attempts to slink away.
"You who?" 68 asks, turning to face - Maxwell Smart?
He nearly drops his glass.
"You - me."
Um.
68 always imagined his first meeting with Max would be during some intense moment with blazing guns and explosions, or during a kidnapping, but certainly not when 68 was hanging out at a bar drinking a Cosmopolitan.
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"Buon giorno, Max!" he says, slapping 68 on the back. "[Oh, you grew a goatee? Very impressive. You know sometimes I think I should grow a mustache. What do you think? Would I look nice with a mustache?]"
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???
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Not. Again.
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(Un)fortunately, right now, this Cosmo > you.
But don't worry! He'll be ready to flirt with bother you soon enough.
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"Vhy, 99! Hel~lo!"
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Max is not in the most fantastic of moods.
And Max may, in fact, be itching to punch someone in the face.
OH, LOOK.
"You."
(It's the goatee that gives 68 away.)
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He nearly drops his glass.
"You - me."
Um.
68 always imagined his first meeting with Max would be during some intense moment with blazing guns and explosions, or during a kidnapping, but certainly not when 68 was hanging out at a bar drinking a Cosmopolitan.
He's been caught a bit off-guard.
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"No, you are not me."
Beat.
"Well, technically - "
WHATEVER
>:|
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"Vell, vell, vell. It is about time zhat ve finally meet! Hello, mister Smart."
... nice save, ja?
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