Me?

 “Me?”

Alexander Waverly frowned at the incongruous question, savoring the young man's expression.

“You, Mr. Solo.”

You might take Waverly for an old man, gentle, benevolent and lenient, the mix of an ideal grand father and Santa.

He wasn't.

Napoleon Solo held back the “But...” and the “Why?” and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Alexander Waverly got up and bent over his agent, resting his hand on the man's shoulder.

“You worked with him. Remember this Vulcan Affair? He did very well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Efficient, sharp, meticulous, angelical and irritating Russian.

“So, from now, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin will be your partner.”