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ilyushenka.

THE PRESENCE OF the female bodyguards do nothing to coax Illya out from his chrysalis of stilted stoicism; as opposed to Solo, who appears to thrive on the presence of the opposite sex.

&& as they are watching the girls, the girls are watching them, their eyes full of dark language && dark promises. Illya wonders when women became so dangerous, or if they’ve been dangerous all along.

❝ They are looking at us. ❞

He’s not so quick to write off the threat the women present. Though scantily clad they still move like predators, faintly feral && ravenous, curled around their mark’s body in ways he sees now are for safety rather than SEX.

Now that he mentions it, the man looks to be completely apathetic towards their presence. Almost as if he…

❝ Ah. ❞

WHAT THEY DO NEXT is particularly important, now they have been noticed ( whether in suspicion or in passing ). in this public place, it’s good to be seen, to be acknowledged as one of the many. what needs to be maintained, cultivated, is the impression they’re not here for anything other than a dance and a drink.

it’s high time they tackled the latter.

❝ of course they are peril; i’m extraordinarily attractive, and you look like you’ve stepped out of kgb monthly. let’s see about correcting them, shall we? ❞

the exclamation (as loud as is possible from a russian extraordinarily adept at the constraint of free reaction in a noisy room catches him just as he turns away; an eyebrow peaks to meet this observation. he does catch illya’s meaning, but refrains from another glance in the target’s direction. one thing at a time. solo plucks at illya’s elbow, leads them through the crowd towards the bar.

#ilyushenka #v. | the man from u.n.c.l.e.#so humble this one

hawkseyes.

❝ YEAH, SADLY YOU don’t get t’make that call. Not that I was lookin’ to unpack the skeletons in your closet anyways. ❞

❝ we’re in agreement then. i’ll do a fantastic job, you’ll get to go back to sherwood forest, and SHIELD will trust me enough to go out in the field without this oversight, which i have been more than capable of for over a decade. ---- so, you and the blonde - bobbi - you’re.... ? ❞

#v. | this is all very x files isn't it?#solo's goal when he gets irritated: irritate everyone else #hawkseyes

pxriil.

◤ His head barely lifts as the door opens, a glance confirming his suspicions as to whom had just entered. ◢

❝ Go away. I am busy. ❞

&& NAPOLEON might heed such words if they were voiced lower, with a particular russian growl and accompanied by shaking hands. as it were, they were not. he sits, sinks low into the settee opposite.

❝ do you ever relax? ❞

#pxriil #v. | the man from u.n.c.l.e.#never listens ever

kanjabeto-deactivated20180421

Henry Cavill photographed by Mikael Jansson for Interview magazine

#✘ | cowboy ( face )#o u c h

ilyushenka.

ILLYA’S NOT MADE for undercover work, though his training required he eke out some semblance of skill in the area before beginning field work. With a head above the crowds && his heart resting on a hair trigger, he goes too easily unignored. && while Solo is not one to blend in to the masses himself, he makes use of the attention, where as llya only chafes with it.

But his hands are steady even in the abrasive din, he concentrates over the noise, scanning the area for threats.

❝ It is not their underwear I am looking at. ❞

His chin lifts, motioning to the familiar bulge of weapon hidden behind one of the girl’s stockings, strapped to the curve of her thigh.

❝ The girls. They are his bodyguards. ❞

Where the man is getting well-trained, FEMALE body guards in Greece, he has no idea. But the sight is as intimidating as it is intriguing.

in the guise of surveying local talent ( a nod & promising curve of his lips is spared to an interested brunette propped, chest emphasised, against the side bar ), solo sweeps another look their target’s way, this time looking for the telltale outline of weaponry on girls wearing a little more than lingerie.

peril is right, though; there’s a decided lack of men in dark suits ( another minute and he might have started scanning the crowd for them ).

a THRILL of anticipation rushes to meet the confirmation && a noise of surprise that rests at the back of his throat. it doesn’t complicate the mission, but it certainly makes it more interesting. a woman with a gun strapped to her thigh ( gaby mostly excepted ) only manages to titillate, not to worry.

❝ hm. that’s certainly something. ❞

-- something elizabeth failed to mention, but he isn’t inclined to acknowledge that shortcoming out loud.

he inclines his head towards his companion.

❝ nothing we can’t handle, i’d imagine. ❞

#solo's definition of 'handle' is very broad #v. | the man from u.n.c.l.e.#ilyushenka

purrsuasion.

they are an unassuming a pair standing tall at the rear of the ballroom ( she, at least, is inconspicuous by choice, and he is unsuspicious for for his brazen command of attention in a fine suit and a well-worked smile. the man who appears to hide nothing hides most ). without so much as a glance spared her way - he’s been watching her a while already - he is offering a glass of champagne and a word, hushed low and confidential.

❝ do you suppose the elderly mrs redding will miss her pink diamond hairpins? ❞

#i hope this is okay!!#purrsuasion #v. | undetermined

reservoirdogs1992-blog

#✘ | man of masks ( isms )

ilyushenka.

THE PULSE OF the music seeks a homing point within his chest, the crowd possessed by sex && secrets, the seductive anonymity of a dark dance floor && an 0.08 percent blood alcohol level. Illya is, frankly, miserable. Though he seems to be the only one. The inebriated giddiness Solo easily manages to replicate has him nearly nipping with envy.

The caustic burn of liquor barely numbs his nerves. The vodka is of terrible quality. But what’s to be expected in shoddy Italian replication?

❝ You are sure that’s him? ❞

He mutters sideways to Solo, scrutinizing glance landing upon a man across the room who looks to have several women riding his lap simply for sport.

contrary to assumptions made upon evidence he readily presents to the world ( exudation of confidence, a fondness for women & drink - all honest, but key to an image somewhat hollow ), solo does not frequent these establishments often outside the requirement of his profession. it doesn’t mean his body doesn’t know how to move, the languid movements of a man more inebriated and a smile that glazes. when does napoleon solo not seem to be in his element? ( when, besides behind the scope of a gun, does illya kuryakin? ) ❝ elizabeth is currently engaged in entertaining him, so we might infer… ❞

&& when she shifts they can, indeed, confirm his identity, a wealthy man average-of-appearance, as they so often are. it’s a fact that only certainly makes his job easier ( eager widows and dissatisfied heiresses ). a searching look to his partner and he tuts, reaches over to smooth the lapels of a jacket he insisted on. ❝ relax, peril. they’re only women in underwear. nothing you can’t handle. ❞

#ilyushenka #walk up to the club like whaddup #v. | the man from u.n.c.l.e.

sairobee

solonapolec-blog

sairobee:

ngl i spent half the time illya was onscreen mentally replacing his dialogue with tf2 sound bites

and the other half adding kill bill sirens

#BASICALLY #✘ | men from u.n.c.l.e.#☭ | red peril #ot3 tag definitely needed #gaby tag also

kanjabeto-deactivated20180421

Henry Cavill photographed by Doug Inglish for Men’s Fitness

#✘ | cowboy ( face )#@ god: thank you

prsphn:

“beautiful things don’t ask for attention” ok but that’s just plain wrong since i, for one, am extremely attention-seeking

#gOD #✘ | man of masks ( isms )

honorfueled.

❝ do you know the host? spectacular evening. i have to applaud the decor. ❞

#v. | undetermined #high society thing?#honorfueled

hawkseyes.

❝ IT’S NOT HOW I planned on spending my Friday— but I do as Bobbi says. She’s the boss here. && she says you have sticky fingers. ❞

❝ the blonde? hmmm. ---- well, my past is not a topic of conversation i indulge in with anyone without a copy of my file in their hands, but rest assured, i intend to keep my hands clean. ❞

#bobbi would though #takes one look at solo and scoffs #v. | this is all very x files isn't it?#doesn't even assume he's being watched because they doubt his ability #because /obviously/ that's no true #so full of it #hawkseyes

pamyaskaya.

napoleon solo. he looks exactly how she had pictured him.

‘ implying that anything not worth doing, should be done at all. ‘

her english is flawless as she recalls the counter-key, audible only to his ears. & as far as anyone else knows, she’s just a woman, flirting with just another gala patron. ( she’s always been very good at meeting other agents in public. )

the woman answers to satisfy an unasked question, her accent divine & entirely convincing, even to his ears ( he knows better ). in kind, solo responds, sweeps her hand from her side to place a kiss on her knuckles, smile fit for the stage. murmured quietly, beneath the current of patrons && music:

❝ приятно встретиться с вами. ❞

it’s the only russian he’ll speak tonight.

#yaaaas that works #does she work for the kgb or is she just sort of an asset/free range agent?#v. | balls on the end of a very short leash

ilyushenka.

THE GUN AFOREMENTIONED is slammed down with such ferocity the legs of the table wobble && creak in opposition. Illya’s eyes go cold, half -wild; his soul not settled within. His apathy sublimates into anger faster than he can follow, fingers twitching out a dangerous rhythm by his side. Their precarious partnership is not yet enough to cool the defensive flames that leap && crackle in his chest at the mention of anything north of Gaby’s tracker.

He redirects his gaze to the sky, watching the sun climb towards evening until his eyes ache, as if the heat will counter the bitter rise of emotion within him. When he finally looks away, blinking painfully, the edgeless image of the sky is bruised whole && livid onto the backs of his eyelids. Napoleon’s ever-smiling face is full of that hot SCAR.

❝ Just because we are partners does not mean I won’t break your nose. ❞ And any other bones he manages to reach.

He doesn’t stay, doesn’t reward Solo those lingering last words he so loves to throw in the faces of people like Illya. People who do not dance through life with the same feigned ease, the same feline grace. Illya is honest in his VOLATILITY; he does not apologize for the monster the world has made him into.

❝ I’m going to find more leads on our target. Do not follow. ❞

solo might have jumped if he were a less observant man - he watches for a reaction & finds those shaking digits, steels his chest for an outburst. he doesn’t flinch when the gun slams loud against the wood beneath it ( when it shifts, he sees it’s been dented, & laments those scars. it’d been a fine piece of artistry, antique. ).

were solo another man entirely, he might apologise, rush to confirm he does not, in fact, mean disrespect to the german-asset-come-british-spy he’s come to develop a stunning fondness for. && his words are empty of any such disrespect.

but the russian’s rage, a simmering molten thing capped by the artificial marble of logic & stoicism ( the man is more HEAT than ice, solo thinks. it’s all that kgb conditioning ), is a fascinating sight even in the knowledge that illya could kill him in a blink of an eye. there is a perverse pleasure in skating so close to it.

he puts his feet up on the table ( ruined now, anyway ), bare with pant legs rolled up at the ankles. illya’s certainly free to go if he chooses - he calls after the retreating figure:

❝ the blonde. tuesday’s blonde, the one you so rudely escorted from my room in nary but a robe - you remember the one? - she’s one of his clients at the club. we have invitations. ❞

#that was MAHOGANY #ilyushenka #v. | the man from u.n.c.l.e.

hawkseyes.

❝ && PEOPLE SAY you’re charming. ❞

❝ so many people couldn’t possibly be wrong. --- i ask you, robin hood, is holding my leash really the best use of your talents? i really do my best work to work alone. ❞

#hawkseyes #v. | this is all very x files isn't it?#go away u

mihareth

Has anyone ever told you you are profoundly self-centered?

#♥ | cowboys & communists #WHERE IS THE LIE

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