Miles returns him a slight shake of the head - at this point, it is most prudent to wait. Or at least, most informative...
Onward they go, the five Barrayarans - Miles, Ivan, two guards, and Vorob'yev - trailing the Cetagandan stationer like four green ducklings and a wine-and-black cygnet all in line behind the mauve-and-grey mama duck.
The Barrayaran embassy's local planetary shuttle is docked at a proper passenger lock with a VIP lounge, none of this freight bay business; the Cetagandan stationer deposits them there and leaves. A guard serves drinks at the comfortably seated lounge table - Vorob'yev chooses the wine and Miles politely accepts some, although he sips as minimally as etiquette will allow and pays equally minimal attention to the ensuing small talk.
no subject
Onward they go, the five Barrayarans - Miles, Ivan, two guards, and Vorob'yev - trailing the Cetagandan stationer like four green ducklings and a wine-and-black cygnet all in line behind the mauve-and-grey mama duck.
The Barrayaran embassy's local planetary shuttle is docked at a proper passenger lock with a VIP lounge, none of this freight bay business; the Cetagandan stationer deposits them there and leaves. A guard serves drinks at the comfortably seated lounge table - Vorob'yev chooses the wine and Miles politely accepts some, although he sips as minimally as etiquette will allow and pays equally minimal attention to the ensuing small talk.