Date: 2014-07-09 11:23 pm (UTC)
thisvorlunatic: (⑭ vorkosigan)
Miles nods as ungrudgingly as possible.

"That worked well," says Vorob'yev, gazing after the departing - and visibly impressed - majordomo.

"I should bloody think so. Breaks my heart," mutters Miles. He passes the beautiful maplewood box to Ivan, looks around at the air of general stalledness in the vicinity, and wafts away in search of a nice warm drink. Ideally one without the soporific effect alcohol tends to have on him. He's already taken a moderate dose of painkillers just in order to be able to walk in his stiff, calf-embracing formal boots; he doesn't need to be dulled any further from here.
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Ivan Xav Vorpatril

September 2014

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