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"Okay, good." Deprived of float-chair comlink, she plucks her pen from her necklace and scribes off a quick message to the ba who are handling her things. "That should be all delivered to the embassy later within the hour. Do your various fellow embassy-dwellers want to have heavily veiled interrogations about me or do they make those faces all the time?"

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"They might want to," says Miles, and lets the sentence end there.

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Linyabel giggles.

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Miles beams.

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"Should I expect interrogations with some level of veiling, or not, at any point in the future? I would like to know what to expect."

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Miles rubs his face and attempts seriousness.

"All right... when we get home, I'll probably want to introduce you to Mother right off. She can get settled in while I report to my boss - have I told you about my boss? Simon Illyan, chief of ImpSec, perfect memory, deadly grasp of sarcasm. He can have all the information out of me he cares to ask for. Probably he'll want to talk to you or something, I don't know. And then I imagine as soon as he's pretty sure you're not secretly some kind of ticking bio-bomb or sleeper agent or something, you'll get to talk to Gregor. Who I'm sure will like you. My advice for dealing with both of them is - don't be afraid to tell the truth. Advice which does not apply to the Barrayaran public at large. Illyan will store everything you say in that brain of his, so be careful not to tell him anything you really don't want him to know, but your best defense against his suspicions is not being whatever he suspects you of. And Gregor... is Gregor. By the time we make planetfall he'll probably have come up with ten different ways to steer whatever trouble your arrival stirs up to an agreeable conclusion. It's important to be honest with Gregor."

He bites his tongue on an admission that this is not the first time he's gone adventuring out in the wide wide galaxy and come back with strays. That will have to wait until Illyan clears her to know about Admiral Naismith. God, what a tangle that will be... he hopes he can wring that clearance out of them soon.
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Linyabel woggles her pen in a way that causes the "screen" it projects to appear totally white, although she's obviously still able to see something in it and seems like she's taking notes.

"I'm not a sleeper agent, a biological Trojan horse, or anything else more complicated than being - Cetagandan, haut, myself," says Linyabel, shrugging gracefully. "But if those characteristics turn out to be more of a disaster than you anticipate - I will not complain much about being shuffled off to somewhere else. I believe I will have to rely on your judgment about how much disaster is too much disaster, as you know the situation on Barrayar infinitely better than I do. What is your advice for interacting with the general public? - And you didn't list your father."
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"My father... is slightly more complicated," sighs Miles. "We can talk about him later." Perhaps when they are actually alone together.

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"Okay."

They arrive at the embassy. Linyabel's luggage, all clearly marked with numbers on the boxes, also arrives and is disgorged from its car by a ba servitor who bows in what might be a vaguely affectionate manner to Linyabel before departing; she bids it goodbye by name and then opens the long box to make sure her keyboard is intact, which it is.

She does a lot of notetaking on her blank white pen projection.
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The lieutenants are not already packed.

While packing is going on - that is, as soon as it's possible to tear Miles out of the presence of his new wife to get him to put objects into luggage - Ivan mutters: "What are you going to do with her?"
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"Well, I did promise I'd take her up in my lightflyer around Vorkosigan Surleau," Miles says brightly.

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"Right, great, you can probably sink a whole afternoon into that. Then what? What are you going to tell Illyan? Or the Count your father? Or Gregor?"

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"I am going to tell all three of those people that I got married, Ivan. And since my wife seems very happy with me, I plan to stay that way... do you suppose we should have a second ceremony on Barrayar? I'll ask her what she thinks," he decides. "I wouldn't want anyone to think I wasn't serious about it, just because all I did was eat some candy and hold her hand. Ought to give my proper oaths."

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"And then everyone will get the message that you're very serious about marrying your friendly but not that friendly haut-lady, that sounds great. Can haut even still have children with regular people?"

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"I'm pretty sure they can, Ivan. I'm pretty sure that's actually the point of haut-wives, at least if you ask a haut-woman."

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"With ghem. Ghem haven't been regular for generations."

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"Regular enough," he shrugs.

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"Okay. So then you have a little half-haut Lord Aral No Middle Name Because She Doesn't Even Properly Have Parents? That will go over well."

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"I'm hoping to give people a while to get used to it before we actually start producing children, admittedly in no small part because fatherhood is a terrifying prospect. But if you think I'm going to let any of that stop me, in the long run, I really don't know what to tell you."

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"I don't think you're going to let it stop you. I was hoping you had more of a plan."

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"I plan to improvise, of course. It's gotten me this far, hasn't it?"

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"I recall spending a lot of time passed out on the floor of the bloody Star Creche while you improvised," mutters Ivan, but he drops it.

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Great. Then Miles can finish packing in peace and go find his wife. (His wife!)

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She's sitting in the lobby, gesturing with her pen, while Maz - perhaps feeling more equal to the task than her fiancé - is making small talk with her. The current topic is what they have each respectively heard about Barrayar; Linyabel sounds like she's working more off of books and speculation than anything, though Maz has been talking to Vorob'yev.

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"All packed!" he says brightly, depositing his two luggage cases in the pile.

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