on 2020-11-19 08:54 pm (UTC)
Another good day. I finished one story and toyed with the other. Also made fruitcakes and took a nice nap.

Illya grinned at that and dropped his Russian accent. “I speak a handful myself and I never heard Russian called easy. What sort of texts?”

“After some of the languages I’d studied, it was. Believe me, ancient Sumerian isn’t to be sneezed at, believe me. They were about Baba Yaga.”

Illya raised his nearly empty glass. “There is a woman you don’t want to trifle with.” Illya drank and then gave Giles a sly smile. “All those stories are true, by the way.” The drinks arrived as did a dish of potato chips. “I miss crisps,” Illya said as he attacked one, chewing happily. “The ones in America taste different.”

“You are a paradox. You are Russian, but you live in America, but obviously have British ties.”

“Went to school here. It was easier to learn the language with immersion. I did the same thing in France when I went to school there.”

“You get around.”

“I do. I’m one of the lucky few.” Illya frowned. “I think I need something more than crisps. Mr. Giles, are you doing anything for dinner?”

“Why, Mr. Kuryakin, I do believe I have an opening.”
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