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

[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.

[isthisart]

Linya answers.

"I bought a medical scanner," she mentions, first. "But it will not work over comm."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Come see me at the embassy, then. It's godawful o'clock in the morning, but they'll probably let you in. And Ivan suggested I talk to you instead of pacing a hole in the floor."

[isthisart]

"Aren't you going to be dragged away for debriefing at any moment?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"Perhaps the commodore will find 'talking to my wife' a decent excuse. Another excellent reason to have the conversation now. Besides, he's not here at the moment."

[isthisart]

"Well, all right, the flower show isn't particularly succeeding at holding my attention anymore anyway. I'll be there in ten minutes."

[thisvorlunatic]

"See you then."

[isthisart]

"Assuming you're you," she says, "I love you."

And then she ends the call.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles... flops disconsolately onto his bed.

[middlingalong]

"Best of luck, coz," sighs Ivan. "You know while Mark was being you he didn't talk her up as much as you do but she came up a couple of times..."

[thisvorlunatic]

"...And...?"

[middlingalong]

"Oh, I was moaning about Sylveth dumping me - by the way, Miles: Sylveth dumped me - and wondering how 'you' managed to hold onto her and there was something about hanging on for dear life but not being clingy and - I don't know how to translate any of it into advice but it came to mind."

[thisvorlunatic]

"My condolences," says Miles. "Maybe you'll figure out how to keep the next one. ...Thanks, anyway, although I'm not sure how much I trust secondhand quasi-advice from Mark."

[middlingalong]

"Well, he does a good you, if it's not good advice it might at least be you advice, and Linyabel likes you."

[thisvorlunatic]

"That's... oddly cheering all by itself."

[middlingalong]

"Good."

[isthisart]

Linya knocks.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles jumps up to answer the door.

[isthisart]

Linya comes in. She gives Ivan a look. "You can do your work somewhere else, unless you've lost the pen I gave you. Yes?"