ornamental flower show

[middlingalong]

Destang isn't too thrilled with Ivan, but since his lack of thrill takes the form of sending Ivan to a flower show to be out of the commodore's hair rather than, say, confining him to quarters like poor Galeni, Ivan isn't going to rock the boat. He leaves the half-commlink with Galeni in case Miles suddenly has an emergency and goes off as directed to meet the lady he's escorting.

He finds her at the University of London's Horticulture Hall, shepherds her around, makes comments of limited sophistication but genuine enthusiasm regarding the pretty flowers, and excuses himself a couple hours into the affair for a bathroom break.

Comments

[spacetobreathe]

"Yes it will, sir."

[isthisart]

"I think I'll take the tubeway myself. Try to catch the rest of that nice flower show. Miles, at some point there is going to need to be a prolonged conversation where the ceiling isn't watching, but it can wait."

[middlingalong]

"You were at the flower show?" snorts Ivan. "I didn't see you."

[isthisart]

"Yes. Are you coming back to it too or putting in an appearance at the embassy right away?"

[middlingalong]

"I think I'd better go with Captain Galeni."

[spacetobreathe]

And here's an aircar with an Elli in it.

"Looks like that went well," she comments.

[thisvorlunatic]

"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.

[spacetobreathe]

Elli snorts and lifts off. When the aircar's stable in the air she scans them both and peers at the results.

[thisvorlunatic]

The one wearing a jacket and using the Betan accent is Miles; the jacketless pickpocket with the Barrayaran accent is Mark. As implied by their conversation.

[spacetobreathe]

Just checking.

She lands at the nearest tube station. It is free of assassins.

[thisvorlunatic]

What luck!

Mark departs, with a last Miles-grin over his shoulder. Miles watches him go and shakes his head slowly.

"Hell. I'm almost tempted to whisk myself back up to the Triumph... no. Better face the music. Take me to the embassy."

[spacetobreathe]

"Yes sir."

And to the embassy she goes.

[thisvorlunatic]

"And... better stay with me on my way in, eh? In case somebody gets trigger-happy."

But his worries prove false. Security lets them in without comment. Miles sends Elli to go get rid of the aircar and then clean up the Dendarii operation, and he goes to change out of his Dendarii uniform and await the return of some combination of Galeni, Ivan, and Destang. Hopefully in that order.

[middlingalong]

Galeni and Ivan are here! Hurray!

[thisvorlunatic]

"I assume you're going to write an honest report," Miles says to Galeni. "I plan to do the same."

[alicornucopia]

Galeni nods. "I imagine it's going to get very, very... long," he sighs.

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'm keeping mine as short as possible, I think. Minimize room for confusion."

[middlingalong]

"Is that why you're going to keep it short," mutters Ivan.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Thank you for your contribution, Ivan."

[middlingalong]

"I think I will go write about how I was kidnapped." Ivan wanders in the direction of his and Miles's quarters.

Galeni goes to his own.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles follows Ivan to their quarters, composes a very short report, files it, and eyes his bed. No, despite the time, he isn't that sleepy; he had his full night's rest not too long ago. He starts pacing instead.

[middlingalong]

"What are you pacing about?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"Leftover nerves. I don't have anything practical to do, but I can't sleep, and there's a very small residual chance that someone is going to shoot me in the next few hours, and I'm worried for Galeni's career and Mark's health. And, again, can't do anything about either."

[middlingalong]

"You could have that long conversation with Linyabel in which you demonstrate to her satisfaction that you're yourself and then she's mad at you."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I could do that," he agrees. "I'll call her."

He calls her.