stands_for_hope | OPEN RP Post

His head tilted up and he gave a good long look at the top of the building from their place on the ground before turning back to Ilya.

"Do you need a ride somewhere?"

And it's almost as if he's cutting off part of what he'd meant to say. Right at the end there.

"It is true that I am arranging my own extraction this time," he said absently. Most people, after a near-death experience, would have some trouble focusing on anything but the fact that they were still alive. Illya was not one of them, and that little almost-addition caught his attention.

The kernel of suspicion had only just been planted two minutes ago, when he had caught sight of the face of his rescuer. It was in full bloom now, and just about ready to bear fruit. Illya folded his arms without looking away from that very familiar face. "Hm. Explains some things. Nice to see you again."

The expression on his face shifted from surprise to mild annoyance at himself to tired acceptance and finally to a wry smile.

"I couldn't exactly let you fall off the building, after all. I trust you can be discreet?"

"I did not use your name," Illya pointed out, then glanced to the top of the building again and back to. Well. To Clark.

From what he had heard of Superman's abilities, he had probably assessed the situation on the roof and already knew about the fatality. And had not seemed to mind it. "Can I trust you to be?" he asked.

Superman had too much power to kill, to play judge, jury and executioner. Not to mention the fact that killing was... not something he was built to do. What he saw in the world, how he saw the world... it didn't fit for him.

But he wasn't human. Agents, police officers, soldiers, even everyday people sometimes had to kill. He didn't approve, but he also couldn't disapprove in some ways because of the power that he held. Ilya, he was reasonably sure of. And he'd heard some of the conflict before he'd swooped in.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Then we are fine." It was said simply, and honestly. They both had secrets, and they would both keep them. In Illya's world, that was all the assurance he needed.

Then, because he felt he ought to, he added in English, somewhat wryly, "UNCLE thanks you for your assistance in keeping their agent from falling to his death."

"I didn't do it for UNCLE," he said with a small, warm smile over at Ilya, one that was a bit more personal this time. Ilya was a good man. He liked him.

And that was just. A challenge to respond to. As a rule, the people Illya dealt with and the people he knew, the friends he'd made, they were closed off. Things were said in carefully-worded roundabout ways with layers of meaning, both at UNCLE and before, in the KGB.

The sound of police sirens had him taking a step back after too many moments of silence. "I think that is my sign to be going," he said, cool and professional once again.

Clark's expression didn't change but he nodded and stepped back, turning to leave Ilya to the shadows of the street as he went to face the police. He was there to help, after all.

"Get back safe."

"...thank you." The little whisper managed to prompt an answering little smile as he faded back from view and tucked his hands into his pockets and became just another idle bystander eventually wandering back toward UNCLE's local station.

Of course the secret would be kept. Keeping secrets was his job, and he had been doing it far longer than that. But it likely would not matter particularly. He doubted he and Clark would cross paths again soon, in any of their guises.

OPEN RP Post

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