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Time goes by. Linya, who already quietly turned nineteen, turns twenty. She collects an accelerated master's degree in neuroscience and starts corresponding with various people on the subject.
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.
isthisart
thisvorlunatic
"The news services," he says, with an expression of entirely real concern. "Excuse me, ma'am—" he gives her that bow again. "I must not speak with you without first securing permission from my superiors." Ha, ha.
thisvorlunatic
"Ma'am. I cannot," he says. Because if he does tell her she'll investigate on her own anyway, and he has already given her the minimum required amount of lie to get her to interpret the data how he wants her to. By the way she introduced herself a second time, he can tell she's hooked.
isthisart
Linya's next visit is the following day. She knocks on Miles's door. Ivan isn't even there, he's doing inventory that Miles cannot as easily commandeer as he can the desk work.
isthisart
She comes on in and kisses the top of his head, and espies the fur.
"What's that?" she asks.
"What's that?" she asks.
thisvorlunatic
"That," says Miles, "is your present." He picks it up and shakes it out, making as though to wrap it around her shoulders, although he falls rather short of actually being able to do so.
isthisart
She finishes the job for him. "Oh - it's warm - it purrs!" she exclaims. "Where did you get -" She pauses. "...Am I meant to continue to operate under the assumption that you're confined to the embassy, Miles?"
thisvorlunatic
"You, um... can operate under the assumption that I am currently in a lot of trouble," he says, ducking his head sheepishly. "But I'm glad you like it. I thought you might. Made from real cat genes, apparently, not that I could tell the difference. I don't recommend falling asleep with it unsecured nearby; it, um, snuggles rather aggressively."
isthisart
"Is that a drawback?" she wonders, sitting down with the fur around her and watching it resnuggle.
thisvorlunatic
"Well, I suppose you're not in danger of being completely engulfed in your sleep. It was rather alarming for me, though."
isthisart
"Oh my goodness. Well, perhaps it will not be so preferential when we're at home in our own bed as to swallow you and ignore me, and in the meantime..." She shrugs and strokes the fur. It purrs. She scoops up Miles to join her under its fluff.
thisvorlunatic
Miles snuggles into her lap, tucking his head under her chin and wrapping himself in black fur. Cozy.
isthisart
Very.
"I like the fur, but you could have had it sent to my hotel or care of Dr. Cheung," she remarks. "Rather than getting in a lot of trouble."
"I like the fur, but you could have had it sent to my hotel or care of Dr. Cheung," she remarks. "Rather than getting in a lot of trouble."
isthisart
"I love the fur. I am going to sleep with the fur unsecured and nearby, Miles, it's lovely."
isthisart
"It and what - eating apparatus?" Pet pet. Fur and also Miles. "Maybe it will settle for my feet. If I suffocate I will not blame you, at any rate, I have been warned."
thisvorlunatic
"According to the sales goon its actual sustenance is electromagnetic radiation absorbed by some kind of net under all the fluff, but for a few seconds after I woke up in it I semi-seriously considered the possibility that it was attempting to digest me."
isthisart
"Like an enormous furry amoeba. Huh. Well, at least you aren't in enough trouble that your captain is trying to forbid you to receive visits."