shipmaster | (no subject)

[ Miles yelps at that, every one of his combat instincts kicking in for a moment. He flinches forward out of the chair bodily, snagging his up his dagger and whirling to face the potential threat. His fragmented memories have similarly scrambled up his fight-or-flight instincts; the result is sometimes quick moments of panic like this that resemble PTSD.

He freezes up after a moment when he sees who's actually behind him. ]

-- Bel?

[It was.. if nothing else, less likely to be the tragedy that it could have. By the time Miles realizes who it was... He might also notice Bel having a hand on the back of the chair and by their posture, ready to bring it up as a shield between them.

More instinct than anything.]

Well... that answers that question.

[ Miles lowers the dagger back down carefully. Shame reddening his cheeks even as he is desperately grateful nothing worse happened just now. ]

Sorry. I - you startled me.

[ Scared him half to death, more like. He resheathes his dagger. ]

No... I apologize, I know better than that. [The back legs of the chair touch the floor again.]

[ Miles manages a weak smile. ]

Can I make it up to you? I can have the cook bring us some breakfast.

[They wave a hand.]

Oh yes, you can. [They pick up the fallen book.] You can stop working yourself towards a fit.

[ Miles winces rather sharply at that. ]

There's no fit. My medical scans came back clear, didn't you hear? And I need to keep familiarizing myself with my old life if I want to recover.

Mm. I saw. [The medical lingo meant very, very little to them. Not their field. Mostly, they saw Miles' relief.] But it's not like the suits cured you either. So, at least eat first.

Breakfast for both of us, then.

[ He'll compromise on that point, at least. He flips open his comm and politely requests that the kitchen send up something warm for both of them. Afterwards, Miles sinks back into his chair and gestures for Bel to take the one opposite.]

[They settle in, crossing their legs. It... is hardly half a minute before one the kitchen staff is up with a heavy breakfast, two plates.

The boy doesn't stop and stare like he had done on the first day, but there are some lingering glances at Bel's chest and legs before they back towards the door again.]

At least I can be sure anything here is vat grown.

[ A soft sigh at that. Miles has tried his best to explain, but ... Well. It could be worse, he supposes. True to his word, he takes a selection of (vat-grown) meat and bread for his own plate. ]

Of course. Mother insists and Da doesn't mind. I grew up eating both kinds, though.

[A pause...] IS it true that you eat horse, here?

Oh god, no. Not since the Occupation. Those were desperate times.

Ah... good.

... There was a lot of misinformation, but somehow that one stuck.

[ Miles snorts a bt. ]

Of course it did. I know what Beta Colony thinks of Barrayar. That we're still a mess of backwater barbarians even at best.

Backwater, at least. [They equivocate. Though no, both are accurate.

Bel starts cutting up the heavy breakfast sausage.]

How are you doing, so far?

[ Miles lived on Beta Colony too, after all. He knows both are accurate. ]

Mm, about the same. I'm trying to jostle something loose. Anything loose at all at this point.

[The grimace. They'd been watching the subtle play of expressions on Miles' face throughout the day.]

I do wish I could have told you more at the time.

I know. You had no way of knowing if we were under observation or not. You did very well, Bel.

[ But now he feels like he's trying to heal with a bone set incorrectly. He's never going to walk straight again. ]

I'm not entirely unconvinced we weren't. [They run a hand through their hair.]

There's a lot astoundingly unanswered.

[ Miles nods again at that. ]

And now ImpMil has its survey ships out to explore. And Beta Colony's, for that matter. I almost wish we were out with them.

I don't. It's going to be a lot of gathering rocks in little packets. And then gathering a lot more rocks in little packets.

... Let me guess. You tried for the survey but didn't make it?

[There was a moment - a little spark of defensive anger - that would have been an answer enough if Bel hadn't continued after that bite of breakfast.]

I don't know if you can call it trying if you don't make it past the evals.

You should eat.

[ Sorry, Bel. As an apology, Miles takes a large bite out of his toast. ]

Ah. Well, I likely wouldn't have either. Even putting aside the issue of parentage.