And that's two reports to devoutly hope this room will never witness. It's a relief to see the fright they'd brought drain away -- how many times has he waited here for news filtering back from the field, hoping and dreading what it might carry?
The irony is nearly restful in comparison. Gregor does irony so very well.
"With equal pleasure," Bel murmurs. And with a hint of rueful, reciprocatory irony, standing in, a little awkwardly, for the ceremonial forms of address they'd never needed to learn on the Moira. "--Sire.... I'm afraid this office was actually the easy part. I caught a special on the Hegen Hub Treaty, a few months after. There was a fuzzy vid clip -- I had to learn the rest after that, if only to keep from putting my foot in something."
Like this, for example. More important, though, and less forgiving, had been the need to steer others' feet away. Knowing what to steer them away from had been vital.
"The other part was a matter of adding two plus two, if the twos were dozens of ones cleverly hidden all over the Nexus." A glint of quiet personal pride at that, even if some of the clues had been more of right-place, right-time. "I was dead sure his secret was safe, so I held my peace until all this; that's why you wouldn't have been informed yet."
Except for the time when he'd been first to know.
The office is so... so calm. Beautifully appointed, absurdly opulent (to Bel's Betan eye) in its trove of well-used wooden furnishings. And empty, but for the two of them. Gregor himself can't have been reported missing on this Barrayar, or the room would be full of ImpSec. There's still time for that.... The picture it makes is strangely peaceful, the tall, quiet man sitting there day after day to manage the moving parts of his empire. On the Moira, Bel could have stepped up and taken his hand with hardly a second thought.
"It's been quite the unexpected field trip--" Again, no name to call him by. It's unexpectedly difficult, not to. "I should love to fill you in, but -- let me apologise first, if I've broken in on anything urgent."
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The irony is nearly restful in comparison. Gregor does irony so very well.
"With equal pleasure," Bel murmurs. And with a hint of rueful, reciprocatory irony, standing in, a little awkwardly, for the ceremonial forms of address they'd never needed to learn on the Moira. "--Sire.... I'm afraid this office was actually the easy part. I caught a special on the Hegen Hub Treaty, a few months after. There was a fuzzy vid clip -- I had to learn the rest after that, if only to keep from putting my foot in something."
Like this, for example. More important, though, and less forgiving, had been the need to steer others' feet away. Knowing what to steer them away from had been vital.
"The other part was a matter of adding two plus two, if the twos were dozens of ones cleverly hidden all over the Nexus." A glint of quiet personal pride at that, even if some of the clues had been more of right-place, right-time. "I was dead sure his secret was safe, so I held my peace until all this; that's why you wouldn't have been informed yet."
Except for the time when he'd been first to know.
The office is so... so calm. Beautifully appointed, absurdly opulent (to Bel's Betan eye) in its trove of well-used wooden furnishings. And empty, but for the two of them. Gregor himself can't have been reported missing on this Barrayar, or the room would be full of ImpSec. There's still time for that.... The picture it makes is strangely peaceful, the tall, quiet man sitting there day after day to manage the moving parts of his empire. On the Moira, Bel could have stepped up and taken his hand with hardly a second thought.
"It's been quite the unexpected field trip--" Again, no name to call him by. It's unexpectedly difficult, not to. "I should love to fill you in, but -- let me apologise first, if I've broken in on anything urgent."
Because Bel's come to take him away from it.