This isn't Emily's dorm room.
This is Milliways! Awesome.
"Hi, Bar," she says cheerfully. "Looks like I'm the first one in at the moment, huh?" she says, looking around at the otherwise-empty room.
"I think he's a Barrayaran thing, although we may have inherited him from one or another of the colonist sources, probably Russia. Is Santa Claus a fellow who small children believe to be responsible for their winter holiday presents?"
"Then yes. I believed he existed until I was seven, and then I received Winterfair socks and realized this was a very human injustice."
"More recently, I only narrowly escaped dressing up as him for a pageant whose originally intended sole cast member over the age of eight fell ill. He got better in plenty of time and his sister did not have to paste a beard on me."
"Well, they don't seem to be quite the same character, even if they share a certain spiritual kinship." She looks him over. "You don't quite seem to suit the role of an old man either."
"I am unharmed. By that." Perhaps unconsciously, he picks at a fairly fresh-looking scar on his knuckle. Actually, he's got several of those.
Ivan snorts. "Well, the short version of the long story is that I was kidnapped and locked in a seawall and viciously attacked the walls, doing them no damage whatsoever and opening a few holes in my hands."
"I'm all right. Got to medical in fairly short order, th'bastard who did it got a nerve disruptor to the - hm, I don't actually know where he got it to, but somewhere appropriately central - other innocent and dubiously innocent parties to the matter are all also all right."
"Ooh, nice. I can't say I've ever thwarted something so dramatic myself, but my father helped save the world once."