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[komarran]

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[komarran]

[ Wait, what? ]

Lord Vorkosigan? Do you know who you're speaking to?

[jacksonian]

This is Miles. Right?

[komarran]

Try again.

[jacksonian]

[ What...He goes through his contact list, searching for a match to the current user ID -

And finding one.

Oh, shit.

He considers just writing nothing in return. Quitting the conversation. Just - fleeing. But - he can't - not in good conscience - he has to write - ]

It was sent to the wrong person.

[komarran]

I had hoped that was the case.

[ Because the alternative was... Unpleasant to say the least. ]

You're not the first Vorkosigan to send me strange messages.

[jacksonian]

[ He could seize on that second part and hopefully take the conversation in another direction, but instead: no. Awkwardness. ]

I don't think of him as my father.

[komarran]

[ He had continued to give Mark an out. Both of them an out really. But no, the man's continuing down the other path of conversation. ]

He long since stopped being one for me.

[jacksonian]

Yeah. Exactly. So I couldn't have been talking about him from either end, see?

[komarran]

I would hope. That doesn't eliminate the confusion from your initial message. If you want Admiral Lord Vorkosigan's birthdate, I do have it.

[ #justhistorianthings ]

[jacksonian]

[ Oh. He hesitates - ]

I do want it, yeah.

[komarran]

[ Pretend a totally accurate birthdate for Aral Vorkosigan is here. ]

I trust everything has been well otherwise?