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Linya settles thoroughly in. The rest of her Barrayaran clothes filter in and she mixes and matches in Alys-approved ways. Cordelia continues to be welcoming; the Count continues to be more or less awkward (though she does catch him stifling a laugh the first time she has occasion to scoop up her husband in his presence). Tsipis continues to be marvelously helpful; between them they pick a factory that will be able to make pens for a reasonable bid, and she goes in to visit and makes sure they have everything right and decides what colors the chassis ought to come in (four standard colors, a dozen more available as custom order with optional engraving). She asks Cordelia what color she wants hers; since she doesn't want a complicated nib-end she can have the first one off the production line. For the complicated-nib version, Linya is still studying optics. She writes a letter to a local manufacturer of holoprojectors to see if they have any insight. She wraps up her study of Greek and starts on French - French, she already knew, but this is a different dialect with peculiar Barrayaran Cyrillic spelling rules, so it still requires nonzero effort.
Oh, and she snuggles her tiny Barrayaran. And makes music and has groats for breakfast roughly every other day.
Setting a date for a groat-related wedding as opposed to a groat-related breakfast is a little complicated, but they are formally, as it were, engaged.
isthisart
thisvorlunatic
Miles spends these few weeks snuggling Linya and braiding her hair and watching her design her pens and eating meals with her and braiding her hair and listening to her music and conversing with her in mediocre Barrayaran French and braiding her hair.
And then one morning in the middle of executing a so-far-flawless switchback cascade, he mentions semi-offhandedly, "I've scheduled my leg bone replacement surgery for next week. Wish me luck, eh?"
And then one morning in the middle of executing a so-far-flawless switchback cascade, he mentions semi-offhandedly, "I've scheduled my leg bone replacement surgery for next week. Wish me luck, eh?"
isthisart
"Oh goodness. Luck, certainly - what's the convalescence supposed to be like?"
thisvorlunatic
"Depending on complications - I could be a few days flat on my back in the hospital and then a week or so at home strongly disinclined to walk; or a week of the one and up to a couple months of the other. I'm guessing somewhere in between."
isthisart
"Are you going to get a float-chair or shall I anticipate carrying you from place to place?"
thisvorlunatic
"You're welcome to carry me around the house as much as you like. I confess I was anticipating shuffling around grumpily on my own unhappy feet—stomping being strictly off-limits, you see. "
isthisart
"But you are highly portable. You should not have to shuffle on unhappy feet."
thisvorlunatic
"I guess I'm still not used to having a... porter." Braid braid braid. "Have I mentioned recently that I love your hair?"
thisvorlunatic
"...I love you too," says Miles, unutterably pleased. "I will hug you in a few minutes when I reach my next stopping point."
thisvorlunatic
"Well, I'm not going to just drop the braid," he says, and then he also giggles.
thisvorlunatic
"Truuuue. Don't tempt me, this one's going perfectly so far and I want to finish it."
isthisart
"I love you too. It occurred to me last night that you were probably doing that 'waiting indefinitely for me to bring it up' thing."
thisvorlunatic
"Er - it was more a case of waiting until later, but 'later' was imprecisely defined."
isthisart
"What is visitation going to be like when you're in the hospital for whatever amount of time?"
thisvorlunatic
"Um - I'm not really sure what the deal is from your end. Talk to Mother," he advises. "She has practice."