And because she suspects the answer is no, she puts her hand back where it is to be tied to the chair.
He ties her hand to the chair again. He doesn't touch her at all in the process, again.
"There's only one of you, and you're not fragile, right?" she asks while he's doing that.
"Okay. Am I going to be stunned again or are chairs just going to keep accumulating in the cell?"
"They're going to take the other one out when they put you back," Mark says dryly. "At least, I hope so."
And on that note, he goes to summon the guards to have her carried back down.
Linya removes all everything from her facial expression, helpfully.
"Can I solicit untying again?" she asks when she's been shut up with Miles and Galeni yet again.
"Yes," says Miles. He goes to untie her. "How was your conversation with Mark? Was it as unsettling as mine? I felt like my brain was being turned inside-out."
"I didn't have that problem," she says. "Not to say that I was perfectly thrilled with its every particular, especially the part where he quoted you very exactly, but I did not have that problem."
"...that's an application of Mark's... Markness that I had not considered," says Miles. "Like a walking vid recorder that only replays one subject. Spooky."
"It was, a bit, although it didn't surprise me very much in context."
"Yeah. Well, I'm creeped out and worried for the future of Barrayar."
"He says there's only one of him," she adds. "Which is not hardly a statement immune to mistakes or lies, but it's better than him claiming there's a dozen."
"I'd like to. I have just - made too many mistakes about related subjects, too quickly."
He is done untying Linya. He flops onto his bench. It is uncomfortable.
She stands up and stretches her legs and sits down again and wishes she could hold him.
Uncomfortably.
Long sterile halls painted a faintly sickly shade of off-white, lined with anonymous doors. He's wandering through ImpMil, looking for something. He can't remember what it is, but it's very important that he find it. Someone keeps screaming. Maybe they'll know where to look. He tries to follow the sound, but keeps circling the same corridors, over and over and over again; every door he tries leads him back where he started. None of them are labelled, and they move when he's not looking. The bastards.
Finally he turns away and starts heading in the opposite direction. The screams echo louder and louder. "Will you shut up!" he yells. "Can't you see I'm trying to save you?" But the anguished howling continues unabated. The next door he tries is locked. He pulls and pulls, but it won't open - it's stuck.
Miles becomes frantic, certain that what he's looking for is on the other side. He runs his hands all over the door, looking for some secret button or weakness he can use to pry it open. While he's not paying attention, the handle melts away, leaving the door a featureless panel. He slumps against it, weeping.
(It's around this point that he starts making unhappy noises in his sleep.)
She touches Miles's shoulder and jostles him gently.
He comes awake with a stifled whimper, head swimming with images of the blood-smeared door and his broken hands.