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From:

[ In an ideal galaxy, the clone would have staked out David Galen from a wary distance. He'd have learned his habits and his life, and he'd have learned where to go in order to stay the hell away from him. In a slightly-less-ideal galaxy where a confrontation became unavoidable, he'd have learned David's habits and then approached him coolly, for a confident, intelligent, well-thought-out conversation that would ensure no further conflict. It's only in the worst universe possible that the clone would just run into David Galen at some random coffee shop.

This is the worst universe possible.

He's sitting down with a slice of pie in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other when he looks up and sees, right across from him, an unpleasantly familiar face. And by then it's too late. He freezes, knowing that David will have spotted him first, hands full so he can't go for his stunner.

Maybe he'll think I'm Miles. Please think I'm Miles... ]

From:

komarran

[ Duv has spotted the man and immediately recognizes him, it's hard not to with such a distinctive appearance. He's torn between leaving the coffee shop himself and going up to talk to who he assumes must be Miles. His former subordinate doesn't remember a damn thing of what they went through on Earth, though with how he was greeted at the house he's just happy that they're all back to their "normal" ages.

It's only slightly less headache inducing.

With a small sigh, he heads towards "Miles." It's not like he can avoid the man forever and it's better he get to know him now rather than let that hang in the air. The work he had been planning to do here can wait because surely Miles won't be able to sit for very long here. ]

Miles, I wasn't expecting to see you here. [ He says by way of greeting as he slides into the chair opposite. ]

From:

jacksonian

[ He suddenly regrets his desperate prayer to the universe. He suddenly realizes that, no, it's going to be way worse if David thinks he's Miles, because then they'll have a reason to have a conversation...Instinct takes over, instinct stronger than prudence, and it's a Barrayaran accent that tumbles out of his mouth. ]

It's not my usual spot. I thought I'd give Gregor a break from serving me.

[ And he grins, a hyperactive's half-insane smirk, and then nods to his hands. ]

What are you drinking?

From:

komarran

[ That's... Strange. His brows raise as he watches Miles. The eight-year-old he had run into spoke with that accent, but the brief interactions he's had with the man as an adult were with his Betan accent.

He keeps his tone conversational as he settles into his seat, his messenger bag of books and writing materials set on the floor beside him. ] Coffee. I didn't realize you were going back to your roots.

From:

jacksonian

[ Roots...?

Shit. A Komarran calls him Miles; the Vorkosigan accent is automatic. Absolutely ingrained. But it's stupid. It's Miles Naismith who stalks these unfortunate streets, not Vorkosigan. Amateur mistake. Really amateur.

He shrugs cheerily enough. ]

No reason for pretense between us, eh? We know each other well enough.