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[komarran]

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busts in here

[jacksonian]

[ 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... ]

[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. ]

[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?

[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.

[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.

sometime after his talk with kasumi; a two part text

[amadaman]

[1/2]
Hi Doctor
Do you happen to be free sometime today?


[2/2]
We need you to come in for some short questioning
(人´∀｀)．☆．。．:*･

[komarran]

Short questioning of what kind?

[amadaman]

Bright lights, a lot of intense glaring, assuming you're guilty until we deem you innocent.
¯\_(ツ)_/¯


Actually I just wanted to ask you a few questions about your taste in women

[he's 12 for another week]

[komarran]

Do you need advice of some kind?

[amadaman]

Nothing like that. It's an investigation.

[Text, ID Vorkosigan, Misfire event]

[use_everything]

[It's a simple missive, meant for Cordelia:]

this xmas sounds like father frost need lists for gregor miles and mark

will leave that to you

[komarran]

[ He stares at his communicator for a very long time. There's only one Vorkosigan not listed that would have sent a message like that. Is Admiral Lord Vorkosigan so careless as to send a subordinate to fetch shopping lists?

When Duv entered Imperial Security, he knew he'd have to deal with the Vor upper class. He didn't think it would take the form of this however. It's with a long sigh that he sends back a simple, ]

Is there a budget I should be made aware of, sir?

[use_everything]

[It takes a while to answer. Not just for the usual reason of his glacial typing speed, but him checking the contact he'd sent and delivered it to, versus the ID responding. Honestly, he first thought the sir was a bit of sass from his wife. Or was there a way to make things LOOK like they were from someone else...

No. There was a simple, efficient way to get to the bottom of this.]

explain

[komarran]

[ Explain what? Duv didn't initiate this conversation. His brows furrow in confusion as he stares at the response. Best to go with the facts, if that's what the man is searching for. ]

You appear to have requested my assistance in compiling gift lists.

[use_everything]

the hell are you doing with cordelia's comm

[Because that's clearly the answer.]

Text; Misfire

[dendarii]

[ You're just getting all these texts meant for Cordelia here, Duv. ]

What the hell do I get Gregor for his birthday? AND winterfair. he's too good at giving me presents, it's not fair. I can't top the horse or the date

[komarran]

[ There area a lot of questions he has about this text (one of the top being why him), but one supersedes them all. ]

Date?

[dendarii]

[ Did he mention it to Cordelia previously? Maybe not. He and Gregor had kept a low profile that day, after all. ]

For my birthday. He figured out a way to use my powers to make us the same height for the day - one of the most thoughtful things he's ever done for me.

[komarran]

[ Is the man serious? Duv double checks the ID and there's no mistaking who's sending it. Unless he knows another Gregor, it seems the highest ranks of the Vor caste are taking a different turn this generation. ]

I was unaware of this security concern, Lieutenant.

[dendarii]

[ Now he's blinking down at his comm. That ... is a weird text coming from his mother. Maybe Aral's got it? Either way, he's huffing a bit at the thought that Gregor doing a nice thing for him is a security concern. ]

We were perfectly safe. It's not automatically a security concern for Gregor to be my height. I put up with it all the time!

text, a merciless misfire

[jacksonian]

[ Mark, nervously, had written and rewritten this message to Miles about a dozen times. Needs to sound cool and casual, after all. What he'd finally managed was this: ]

When is our father's birthday?

[komarran]

[ Their father? That's the first time he's heard of that shared term being applied to them and it has him wincing as he reads the text. What is with the Vorkosigans and messaging him awkwardly today? Thinking of Mark as a brother...

He shakes his head. It's not a thought he wants to have right now. ]

It doesn't matter, he's not here to enjoy it.

[jacksonian]

[ A cold lance of fear goes through him at that. Did - Was Lord Vorkosigan sent home? No. That's not possible. If he had been, Miles wouldn't break the news to him like this. ...Would he? ]

What do you mean?

[komarran]

[ Duv can feel a headache brewing. ]

Have you already forgotten?

[jacksonian]

[ He feels sick, or like he's about to cry. ]

No one told me. Something happened to Lord Vorkosigan?