#❛ twenty first century sweet talker. — v: modern.

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@motleyscrew​  ↪  give your local thief attention today!

        ❝ you know, i’ve found myself wondering when it is that you’ll take me out, ❞ as though the burden falls on his shoulders, for all of solo’s incessant quips and the way he saunters in, all silver tongue and quick hands, luxuriating in any space he’d like to; he can’t be blamed for the way he turns heads. he can, however, be blamed for his incorrigible antics, ❝ or would that involve scheduling a formal appointment? ❞

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@thexunpleasantsurprise  ↪  starter call pt. 2: electric boogaloo

        ❝ It’s been something of a day. ❞

        It was indication that he’d like to leave work where it belonged: outside of home. James’ home. Their home, truly, because they weren’t kidding themselves any longer and they’d long since moved past the hurdle of denial.

        He smiled, wearily, but the tension in his shoulders seemed to be punctured out of him when he’d shut the door, slipping his coat off and hanging it up.

        ❝ One I’m certainly glad I get to end by coming home. ❞

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@motleyscrew​ :  “ we all have sins to pay penance for. ” ( from q, my James Bond son )

prompts for some emotions  /    accepting

        ❝ that depends on who you ask, ❞ he’d like to beg to differ, quartermaster; he’s hardly done anything wrong ... never you mind the impressive repertoire of grand larceny and profiteering. any man in their right mind would tell you they’ve got to make a living, one way or another. funny, he’s thought, how it’s all played out for him, conviction saddling him with a life like servitude.

        it’s all the perks and privileges of world travel with the grit of a harsher reality, when he finds himself unable to enjoy his time in kiev, wounded after a firefight, or what was an utterly disorienting week in spent in a dingy little bunker in zagreb that made his first breath of fresh air feel like he’d been drowning for the past seven days.

        serving his pardoned sentence under the central intelligence agency, however, was never the first circumstance he’d been in where he’d had to kill a man.

        that’s years away from now, bright - eyed and bushy - tailed, a desperate bid to escape poverty. the army was hardly ever enticing; it’s a matter of limited options. that was training, but inexperience, and then it was pulling the trigger. it’s becoming a sergeant when he’d worked his way up the ranks.

        it’s becoming a war hero ( is that what they call it? ), and then a criminal, and then an agent something more like a prisoner.

        ❝ i’d like to believe i’ve done my due diligence. wouldn’t you? ❞

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@brokenspy​​ ,  happily married ?

        well, the look she gave him was telling in itself. she had little reason to believe that he wouldn’t dabble in pleasure alongside business. though philandering had been curbed --- he was here with the missus, of course: agent walker --- he stepped away from idle conversation with a smile that said it all to anyone who’d had their fair little briefing on him prior to their cooperation. serial theft; among his newfound treasures was a limited edition watch he looked forward to adorning an ensemble with. ❝ at this rate, you'll wither away by the end of the night, ❞ a playful jab he thought held more than its fair share of truth, ❝ do try to have some fun, dear. ❞

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@thexunpleasantsurprise :  “ do you love me ?” smug bond is smug bc he already knows the answer

drunken confessions    /    closed x

        Dreadful of James to ask when he’d had the glass of wine up to his lips for a drink; an amused sputter had nearly done him in, in a graceless spill. He did manage to maintain his grace, however, sparing the remains of his ensemble of any wine stains, lowering his glass and cocking a brow.

        ❝ You know, I’m beginning to think the wine’s gotten to your head. ❞ Napoleon was treating it as though it was far too dangerous a question to ask, like the answer might not have been something he wanted to hear. Mirth diffused into mock consideration, a furrowed brow, all the tellings of deep thought.

        They both knew the answer. They knew it for a long time, except neither of them knew when they began to know it. It happened gradually, just as everything else about them had.

         ❝ I just might. ❞

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‘  move in with me.  ’ oops

you’re the worst    /    accepting pls

        That was a thing he didn’t imagine would be suggested.

        And it was quite a time to suggest it, too; Napoleon, in all of his morning glory, clad in a very fine dressing gown, had tied the belt at the waist loosely by some miracle and was a vision of leisure. His hair was shower-damp had none of the day’s product in it; teeth freshly brushed, face freshly washed, what one might perhaps envision with the mention of luxury.

        He realized then that perhaps he’d already been living with James long enough without quite piecing it together. Perhaps that should’ve been apparent when he’d left a designated toothbrush for every night he’d spend with him.

        Smiling, and shaking his head, two mugs of coffee were prepared to their liking; both in hand, he turned, walking over and extending James’ out to him.

        ❝ Haven’t I already done so? ❞

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'good things can erase the bad ones, right?' from ltcrowell. 😌

6 underground     /    yeah babey@ltcrowell

        ❝ on the side of optimism, are we? ❞ endearing, if he’s honest; good erasing the bad. he supposes that yes, he may be some measure of an example, draping himself in exuberance and dining finely as though he had not starved a day in his life; anyone with the rarity of being privy to those finer details of what had concocted the man that is napoleon solo would piece together why he is the way that he is in an instant. suppose it was a funny thing, then, that he was so terribly easily a man to read in that regard, but was so intricately discrete about his life that little could be said about his motives beyond a lust for riches. which … wasn’t entirely wrong, to be fair.  ❝ … to an extent, ❞ a hum, head lolling lazily to peer at bobby, ❝ might there be a good thing in mind that you’d like? ❞

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@iincantatriix :  my kind of welcome. kingsman sentences part one .    /    accepting .

        ❝ --- As it should be. ❞ He had, after all, devoted a hefty amount of his evening to preparing a feast not unlike what his mother had prepared when penny pinching had allowed for them to replenish their fridge and pantry to an impressive extent, considering their earnings.

        He chipped in every now and then, insistent that he’d taken the odd job when he could manage it; often times, whatever earnings he pitched in had come to fruition following swift, clever hands dipping into pockets or unclasping bracelets or watches. Charming young thing that he was, it was relatively easy for Napoleon to make his way off with a rosy - cheeked smile and bright blue eyes, a number of accessories richer than he had been prior to leaving their humble apartment in Manhattan.

        It came as no surprise that he paid homage to his mother’s Italian roots by working on dish after dish; appetizers, entrées, sides, and zeppole for dessert under the presumption that their bellies wouldn’t be bloated by the time they’d finished the initial meal. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows, he wore a simple apron so as to avoid wreaking havoc on his waistcoat and trousers; the perfect picture of domesticity, a stark contrast to the lethal agent Amora knew him to be.

        ❝ I’ll be done in a moment --- would you mind terribly if I asked you to set the table? ❞ Hardly, he imagined, ❝ oh --- and do get a bottle of merlot out. It’ll pair wonderfully with the chicken parmigiana. ❞

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@thexunpleasantsurprise  ♡’d to collect his thief .

        One could not quite leave Napoleon Solo to his own devices, could they.

        Deceptively charming thing with quick wit and even quicker hands, he felt some modicum of petulance as Bond had come in to rain on his parade, as it were; he could argue that he was not jeopardizing anything when fellow attendees were completely unaware of their effects effortlessly being swiped from their person.

        The fact still stood, however, that it was a personal indulgence, and not at all what they were there for.

        ❝ James, ❞ and there it was, that wheedling tone of his, the one that meant he was rather dissatisfied with being pulled from his antics and reined in. Napoleon pursed his lips. ❝ I’m hardly in need of a babysitter. ❞

        Though, it seemed he was certainly in need of a double - o giving him a proverbial slap on the wrist, every now and then.

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Do you think Tony will miss this painting?

sis gala time .    /    accepting .

        ❝ I don’t imagine he’d even notice it missing. ❞ Debatable, of course. An authentic piece, evidently purchased for its regal aesthetic appeal. Bought with a purpose, if the way it tied into their surroundings nicely was anything to go by. However, Mr. Stark, terribly kind enough to host this gala, had pockets that Napoleon felt extended far beyond the depths of the Marianas Trench. In that regard, the theft of a singular painting --- despite considering its authenticity --- wouldn’t even so much as put a scratch in his bank. All the pomp he presented for his parties practically left him begging to be stolen from, and, well, who was Napoleon Solo to resist such an opportunity?

        Of course, under any other circumstances, it was a touch unrealistic for him to imagine getting away with a painting in the middle of the event. He did, however, have the Enchantress on his side.

        ❝ Would you mind lending me your prowess, darling? ❞

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tumblr did me dirty with tags, so here we go.

❛ we're teaming up with the russians. — v: collared. ❛ united network command for law and enforcement. — v: postfilm. ❛ twenty first century sweet talker. — v: modern. ❛ take care of business. — v: modern ii. ❛ the theft of your heart and your wallet. — v: thief. ❛ specializing in greek and roman sculpture. — au: art and antiquities. ❛ dressed to kill. — au: dark. ❛ a refined feline fatale. — au: werepanther. ❛ blood like a fine red wine. — au: vampire. ❛ there is lust in a human that no charm can tame. — au: incubus. ❛ i wouldn't dare limit myself to one planet. — v: interstellar theft. ❛ u.n.c.l.e. meets the league. — v: dc. ❛ the no homo affair. — ooc. ❛ if i had fifteen minutes we'd drink tea; eat biscuits. — answered. ❛ special pieces. — art and antiquities. ❛ a specialist in complicated acquisitions. — character study. ❛ just another five minutes. — desires. ❛ only my mother calls me napoleon. — headcanon. ❛ i wear a mask; just never when i'm stealing things. — moodboard. ❛ record on the player. — audio. ❛ a little something to enjoy a drink to. — record collection. ❛ only the finest. — treasures. ❛ most effective agent. — visage. ❛ you can't put a paco rabanne belt on a patou. — wardrobe. ❛ that sly come hither stare. — re: amora. ❛ by no means average as long as he's got to have it. — re: tony. ❛ mostra a tutti il mio cuore che hai acceso. — caro. ❛ anything in particular or are you just looking? — prompt.

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@iincantatriix because of this: #[Monty Monty Monty.....WHEN WILL YOU THROW THAT AT ME?!] #[Napoleon 'letting himself in' and casually playing her piano] #[OR MOTHERFUCKER! PLAYING HER HARPSICHORD]

        And so he played, a mindless indulgence; he paid no attention to the soft click of her heels, well aware of her presence while his fingers danced along the keys. A work worth remembering, he had claimed in the past when caught performing this particular concerto, entirely selfish in his own rendition; he followed the sheet music, long since memorized, and he had added his own personal touch. Suppose it was only natural to have the Enchantress stumbling upon this performance, catching him in his instance of serenity on her very own harpsichord. He laughed to himself in the midst of his own performance, but he had never stopped, carrying on and humming with each key. Yes --- he was far from done, Amora, and he certainly hoped you had every intention of enjoying the entirety of his performance.

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@iincantatriix​    /    starter call .

        Never you mind him, Amora; he’s helped himself to the bar, having poured himself a couple of fingers of brandy far older than himself. The scent is acrid, enticing, and by the time he hears her entry, he’s lifted his glass, turning in his nonchalance and raising it in tribute. 

         ❝ You know, I was beginning to wonder if you’d come in at all this evening, my dearest Enchantress. ❞

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Happiest birthday, my dearest. I indulge thee so often I can only imagine how you would wish to celebrate, but it is, of course, up to you. Anything you desire it is yours.

wish the birthday boy a happy birthday .    /    it’s on the 9th of march but these will be late so go for it.

        ❝ Now, Enchantress ... ❞ affectionate, of course, the way in which he addresses her; they both know that she is far more than her title by now, so often has she indulged him in not only extravagance, but in the simple pleasures that can be found in familiar, welcome company. Anything you desire, and he feels a distinct, profound ache in his chest at the thought of it --- anything you desire, she says, to a mortal man. He has long since come to realize that she favors him, and it bypasses shallow flattery and moves onto grounds of emotion he had once not wanted to place a name on; all too easily, he recalls decorating his feelings toward her as mere adoration. He’s moved past that, of course, and knows, with startling clarity, that his goddess has his heart in the palm of her hand --- knowing, in addition, that she will cherish it.❝ I certainly hope a night spent lounging by the fire isn’t too much to ask for, is it? ❞

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that's what happens when you think with your lower brain, solo.

        ❝ entirely unnecessary input, jemma. ❞ he’s learned his lesson.

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‘you’ve never hurt me. ever.’ >:3c

soft angst .    /    accepting .

        ❝  maybe therein lies the issue .  ❞  curt ,  and to the point  —  a serrated blade’s edge on his tongue ,  with so much profound weight to his words that he feels a horrifyingly relieving sense of weight lifted off his shoulders ,  however callous he may seem .  he hasn’t hurt her ;  he hasn’t driven her away in the way he feels inclined to do so ,  when she’s seen him ,  entirely .  seen him ,  and the stories etched into his skin  , the ghosts embedded into his lungs ,  the light tremor of his hands when he wakes with a start and a gasp and a breath that feels like he had been a drowning man ,  desperate and ragged and uncertain about whether or not the currents would pull him under again .  it frightens him ,  to be known so intimately ,  when he’s done everything in his life to be everything but ;  he’s torn off his veil and shed his mask ,  laid bare each raw ,  exposed nerve and trusted her to treat him gently  .  and she has  —  she has ,  she has .  but napoleon finds himself too vulnerable here ,  too wary .  too afraid .  ❝  would it be easier for you if i did?  ❞