shipmaster | (no subject)

[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.

[... Bel's ... slight... personality issues actually pale in front of Miles' honestly.]

... You'd be terrible at anything but complete command...

Just so. And that's not how it works at all, is it? Cordelia compared the Survey to herding cats.

[Cordelia... It seemed strange to their ear and they couldn't place why.]

Just think, everything a committee. And THEN a majority vote. Some unanimous.

I'll continue being a benevolent dictator, thank you.

[ He takes another small slice of meat and pushes the rest of his plate back. ]

Speaking of which - how are you finding Barrayar?

[Bel pushes it back towards him with one finger. Two bites want going to cut it, and they KNEW Naismith and his lack of appetite.]

Better than I thought I would. I think I have tall, dark and imposing to thank. [The Vorkosigan colours nearly as much as the young Armsman wearing them... ]

[ Miles makes a face. Fine, he'll take another bite... ]

Ah, Roic? I was hoping you two would get along.

[One thing that they ARE liking about this job... Miles is listening to a few things here and there.]

He's either unusually open minded or just a bit better at putting on that bland no face that seems to float up around here.

Well, the Vorkosigans are an unusual family. It stands to reason he'd be a bit unusual himself.

You know, you almost talk about them in third person. Removed.