[ closed ]

[forwardmomentum]

Who: Miles, Gregor, and Bel
When: 12/1
Where: the Vor cabin
What: Miles panics over the arrival of one of his mercenary captains on the ship; Gregor decides to make everything simpler.
Warnings: miles being a dumbass idk

God. This is a nightmare situation. Worse than London had been, in some ways -- having Lieutenant Vorkosigan and Admiral Naismith trapped in the same city was bad enough, but on this ship? Damn it, and he wasn't even going to do Naismith here. He was pretty clear with himself on that one. Can't afford to mix and match, here, have to keep them straight, even if he's been increasingly tempted to reach for Naismith here. Worse still is that slipping back into Naismith, even if just for Bel, just for a moment, feels so damned good.

Miles tries to brush that thought away as he careens straight toward the cabin he shares with Ivan and Gregor, his mind still racing. He'd fed Bel some horseshit about a cover story that was a little too close to the truth for anyone's comfort, but it was a hasty fiction -- nearly as hasty as Admiral Naismith had been, to start with. Ha.

"Gregor," he starts as soon as he's inside, locating his foster brother and Emperor, and shutting the door as soon as he does. Just Gregor. Oh, thank god. Miles paces inside on nervous feet, his voice already wound into a manic chatter. "We need to talk. There's -- a problem."

Comments

[forwardmomentum]

Only the one name? Oh, I wish that were true. He's been juggling them since he got here, even before Bel's arrival -- on a purely internal basis. Just as well, he thinks, that no one else is privy to that particular struggle.

Miles smiles bleakly. Somehow it seems inadvisable to drop the news of his recent death on Bel on top of everything else -- his poor captain's been through enough shocks today, he thinks, and they look tired to boot. "The head chef around here is Loki. You decide." He sinks back into the couch a little more, but the look he gives Bel with his brows slightly raised is direct. "You're not looking so hot there yourself, Bel. When was the last time you slept, anyway?"

[hellsbel]

The chef's name is familiar, but at the moment Bel can't call it to mind. "Don't tell me, he's a goblin. Isn't there an Old Earth rhyme about staying away from goblin fruit?" But there's something else behind Miles's expression. A day ago, Bel might not have said anything, even after noticing that Miles was still using the Admiral's accent. Now... should I? Guess or intrusion or allowable liberty?

Stall. Then reassess. "Might ask you the same question. The Ingress pulled me through at midnight, ship's time. I was about to sleep. Didn't happen."

[forwardmomentum]

"A god, apparently." Miles' mouth quirks ironically. "At first I thought he was just a lunatic, but you've met the people around here -- a bit eclectic, isn't it? Turns out he's a lunatic and a god, or as good as one, anyway.

Ah, and Bel's trying to turn this one around on him, are they? "Last night," he says, eyebrows creeping a little higher. "And I got up at 0600 to get ready for my shift this morning. You've been awake at least twenty-four hours now, Bel. Go get some sleep."