"It does, doesn't it?" says Miles-as-Naismith. Mark, still as Vorkosigan, snorts. With a not-quite-unison general nod of farewell, they both pile into the aircar. There is a brief moment of awkwardness as they try to use the same door at the same time, but it sorts itself out quickly. They each take a seat; Miles pulls the door closed behind them.
Mark glances sideways at Miles and, smirking, holds something up between his first two fingers. Miles's hand goes to his jacket, where he was keeping that hundred-thousand-Betan-dollar credit chit. Empty.
"Did you just pick my pocket?" he demands incredulously.
"You were going to give it to me anyway," Mark points out. "I was just having fun."
"God save us all from your definition of 'fun'. Lift off, Elli. Where to, Mark?"
Mark shrugs. "Any tubeway stop that probably doesn't contain any assassins is good enough for me."
"The simple things are too easily taken for granted," Miles agrees.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-09-11 01:08 am (UTC)Mark glances sideways at Miles and, smirking, holds something up between his first two fingers. Miles's hand goes to his jacket, where he was keeping that hundred-thousand-Betan-dollar credit chit. Empty.
"Did you just pick my pocket?" he demands incredulously.
"You were going to give it to me anyway," Mark points out. "I was just having fun."
"God save us all from your definition of 'fun'. Lift off, Elli. Where to, Mark?"
Mark shrugs. "Any tubeway stop that probably doesn't contain any assassins is good enough for me."
"The simple things are too easily taken for granted," Miles agrees.