Napoleon came into the room where Illya was sitting hunched over the computer.

"Illya what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to hack into Yahoo."

"What for?"

"I believe it's under the control of Thrush. Only Thrush could be responsible for something so insidious."

"Illya what are you talking about?"

"Our writer posted a couple of stories several hours ago and no one has sent her any feedback."

"And your point is?"

"It has to be a Thrush plot."

"Why should it be?"

"Well if she doesn't get any feedback soon, she may consider not writing about us anymore."

"Well that's her prerogative."

"But I want her to keep writing about us. She always gives me the best lines."

"Yes I noticed that. How do you plan to appease her then? You're not planning on sleeping with her?"

"Maybe as a last resort." He considered, "I was planning something a little more subtle."

"Like what?"

"I'm going to send her some feedback myself."

"Illya she'll know it's you."

"Not if I disguise my identity."

"Illya, I think you're going to a lot of trouble over nothing. Have you never considered the possibility that the reason she isn't getting any feedback is because she just isn't a very good writer?"

"I'm going to tell her you said that and you'll be the one tortured in her next story."

"Don't be silly Illya, you know you're the one she likes to hurt in her hurt and comfort stories."

"Yes I remember in The Child of Uncle Affair, there was a good deal of hurt but very little comfort."

"Never mind Illya, perhaps you'll fair better on the re-write."

"That's another thing I can't figure out. She's already had it beta-read twice, why does she have to have it beta-read again?"

"Illya you know why. Nobody sent her any feedback on the finished product. Now if that isn't an indicator that something isn't very good, I don't know what is. I don't see why this bothers you so much anyway she's a mediocre writer at best."

"So she's wrote a few bad stories, but some of them are okay. Besides I want to see how The Incident in a Thrush Cell Affair turns out."

"Wrong writer Illya."

"Oh come on Napoleon. You didn't actually believe that they were two different writers did you?"

"Well yes." He replied defensively.

"I knew the truth all along." He bragged.

"Only because you hacked into her computer. So what else did you find in there?"

"I found several unfinished stories about us. I told you Napoleon, the latest ones are just about Bodie and Doyle."

"Well I'll tell you Illya. If you want her to keep writing about you, you'll just have to don a curly wig and I'll start eating too much and calling you sunshine."

"Why should I have the curly wig? Doyle's the older one in case you hadn't noticed."

"Yes but Bodie's the taller one."

"Only by an inch. I have more in common with Bodie than you do."

"For instance?"

"Well I'm the one whose always eating, we both have shadowy pasts and we also are often described as having had traumatic child-hoods."

"Did you?" He asked curious.

"No more so than any other child growing up in a war zone." He replied evasively.

"But I have nothing in common with Doyle." Napoleon whined.

"Never mind sunshine." Illya said with a smile.

The End

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