Pens spread out; the next time Miles sees Elli he gets a white standard-model pen she bought him on Escobar. She has one too; it's silver. She loves it and thanks him for recommending it to her. (She has bought a whole boxful to unload at a markup on the next planet or station she comes to that doesn't have them yet, but doesn't explicitly mention this in case he objects to her cutting into Lady Vorkosigan's margins.)
Miles also has one actual courier mission in there, just escorting a diplomatic pouch from Pol back home, to pad his service record for the less-cleared eye.
There is a visit to a clinic to collect and mystically join gametes, and Linya collects the resulting assembly in data format for editing. She does the grey eyes first and estimates that if she doesn't particularly hurry she'll have a Little Aral What-the-Heck-Should-His-Middle-Name-Be all ready to put in a replicator in two or three years, though she can accelerate that considerably if something comes up urgently requiring the presence of Little Aral sooner rather than later.
And then Miles gets sent off again and is gone for a very long time.
Miles giggles. "That it does! I wouldn't mind a Valory or a Tybalt or a Loren or a Raoul or a Casmir, but I suppose the second son's first name is also an open slot, if we get around to having one... what do you think? Raoul Antoly? Loren Antoly? Tybalt Antoly doesn't sound great unless I switch pronunciations, Tibble instead of Tiball... are we having a second son, do you suppose? Well, maybe better not get ahead of ourselves before we've had the first one."
"I would like to see how the first goes before cooking up a sibling, yes. Loren is a nice name, but where are you getting Antoly?"
"Oh. Did I not mention that when I was talking about the naming custom...? Well, right, if my grandfather hadn't choked on it I'd be Piotr Miles after my father's father Piotr Pierre and my mother's father Miles Mark. But if I had a brother, he'd be Mark Pierre. The second son gets the leftover names in sort of a reverse order. My father's middle name is Antoly, so our first son is Aral Whatsisface - Aral Adri, if you like - but our second son is Whatsisface Antoly. Little Aral Adri can be the second example that founds a proud tradition of alliterative Vorkosigans."
"Well, I suppose I'll change the filenames for the project, then, if we've settled on 'Adri'. I like it." She produces her pen and gestures lazily through the air, summoning up a project folder and changing all references to 'Little Aral' into 'Aral Adri' instead.
"Oh, pens," sighs Miles, cuddling up. "I miss my pen. Left the bloody thing on Barrayar."
"Well, if you want an interim one, I can scare one up for you, although it won't be your pretty fountain version and I don't have a full selection of colors on this planet."
"The demos are all black. Ivan has one, now," she adds. "He met a girl who did holo art and had nothing intelligent to say and begged one of the demos off me last month in case he finds her again and she wants to be allowed to draw things in midair."
"Oh, Ivan," snorts Miles. "Right. I'll take black, then, I guess. I love you." He makes a halfhearted effort to sit up, then desists in favour of finding Linya's hand and kissing that.
Ivan is behind him, in gym clothes and extremely frazzled, protesting: "Sir, I swear to God that Linyabel is in actual fact -"
"—For fuck's sake!" yells Miles, sitting bolt upright and glaring at the intruders with sufficient force he is surprised neither catches fire on the spot.
"Never mind what you think they could've been, I'm concerned about what else they could've been, I want to know exactly how a Cetagandan got into Lieutenant Vorkosigan's room without my personal attention," hisses Galeni.
"I spent a quarter-hour producing my anniversary and everything else from Miles's file your security could think to ask of me to confirm it," Linya adds, petting Miles's hair. "And then one of them remembered Ivan having mentioned me, as I have been on this planet for some time now and spoken with my cousin-in-law a few times since arriving. And then I came in and as you can see I have not assassinated my husband this occasion of being in a room with him. We have been discussing middle names for a forthcoming child, Captain, I assure you it's harmless unless you really don't like double initials."
"Oh, shut up, Vorpatril," snaps Galeni. "And none of them fetched me - or fetched Vorpatril to make sure they'd understood him - or asked Lieutenant Vorkosigan if this sounded right to him -"
"I also showed them a wedding holo. And I am in Miles's file, Captain. Should I have hauled one of the Vorkosigan armsmen with me all the way from home, do you think? I didn't expect to have this much prejudicial treatment to deal with in the more cosmopolitan parts of the galaxy, but I suppose this is Barrayaran soil..."
"Aral Adri," chirps Miles to Ivan, by way of subtle revenge on Galeni. "And I'm leaning Tybalt Antoly if we produce a second son."
Galeni heaves a sigh. "Lieutenant Vorkosigan's confined to the embassy for the time being, Lady Vorkosigan. But I do not anticipate the need to - burst in on you suddenly again. I apologize," he says stiffly.
"I tried," says Ivan, as Galeni turns to go, "to stop him, but he didn't want to take my word for it, s'pose."
"Can't imagine why," he mutters under his breath, but then produces a more gracious and less subvocal "Thank you, Ivan."
And Ivan shuts the door.