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Ivan has just recently been assigned to Earth. It's very cultural. He has already explained Vor to groups of natives four separate times. Some of them seem to find it really hilarious to call him Lord Vorpatril. He doesn't mind; some of those people are girls who giggle it and bat their eyelashes. He likes it here just fine.
After he finishes with his day-job duties (separate from attending diplomatic functions to stand around and look handsome) he attempts to let himself out of the room with the comconsole and all its data to sift through, only to find that the hallway has turned into a bar.
He looks over his shoulder. The office is still normal. Which is to say there are no other exits.
Ivan goes into the bar, squinting.
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middlingalong
Galen considers for a second or two, and then tries another tack. "Describe the location where you met."
middlingalong
"It was a bar, nobody else was in it, didn't even have a bartender. Wasn't there anymore when I tried it again, I don't know why. Tables, chairs, bar, back and side doors I didn't look at closely but I think one was a lav, pretty dim, lot of wood in the construction, I didn't see a rack of bottles behind the bar either. Very clean, though, like it'd been given a thorough going-over before we turned up. Chairs were down, not put up for mopping, though."
"When you tried it again? Tried what again?"
Patience. Patience.
"Which door?"
"Which door?"
middlingalong
"The door out of my office. Or into my office, depending how you look at it, no designated exit."
"...The door to your office led you into an empty bar where the clone was hiding under a table?" he asks, to clarify.
middlingalong
"Until he came out from under the table, which was pretty quickly, yeah."
"What information did he give you about himself?"
middlingalong
"He told me he was a clone and he was supposed to substitute for Miles and that he might kill somebody when he did close combat training and that he was on Earth in London and that he went to sleep and woke up on his feet in the middle of the bar and that he wasn't dreaming and that he didn't have a name unless you counted 'Miles' and that his maternal grandfather's name is Miles Mark Naismith and that he had to memorize a lot of names and dates and that you weren't giving him much grounding in my dead ancestors compared to Miles's and that his first escape attempt on Earth didn't work and -"
Ivan here pauses for breath.
"- that if I didn't get my rescue right on the first try he'd be in a lot of trouble and that being brain-transplanted would be better than what he got from you and that he didn't mind not dying and that if he got killed it'd save who he was supposed to assassinate and that no one had ever hugged him before and he likes me and that nobody had ever liked him before and that he believed me and that he hadn't expected help before so he didn't know what it was like." More breath. "Poor kid."
Ivan here pauses for breath.
"- that if I didn't get my rescue right on the first try he'd be in a lot of trouble and that being brain-transplanted would be better than what he got from you and that he didn't mind not dying and that if he got killed it'd save who he was supposed to assassinate and that no one had ever hugged him before and he likes me and that nobody had ever liked him before and that he believed me and that he hadn't expected help before so he didn't know what it was like." More breath. "Poor kid."
...
"How old was he at the time?"
"How old was he at the time?"
middlingalong
"He said five, he talked like he was older than that, I guess that's par for the course for an accelerated clone of Miles."
"And later that day, you 'rescued' him? How old was he then?"
middlingalong
"I don't know when his birthday is - I should ask! Unless he doesn't want to celebrate his birthday, maybe he doesn't - but he's about seven years younger than I am and I'm twenty-five standard."
"Do you," he asks, not holding out much hope, "have any explanation for this discrepancy?"
...
Fuck it. He doesn't have time for this.
Moving on to the second important item on the agenda:
"After you brought him back to the embassy, what did he do?"
Fuck it. He doesn't have time for this.
Moving on to the second important item on the agenda:
"After you brought him back to the embassy, what did he do?"
"Did he seem grateful?"
middlingalong
"He had a panic attack, so there was a little room for doubt, but overall I think so, yeah."
Hmm.
"Who is he loyal to now?"
"Who is he loyal to now?"
middlingalong
"It's complicated? You're terrifying, I'm huggable, Miles is interesting, I don't actually know for sure which way he'd jump if you squeezed him, but I'm positive he wouldn't be upset about it if you happened to die of your own accord and I think he'd have preferred it if I'd got you with a nerve disruptor instead in the first place, gosh, I know I regret missing the opportunity now."
"He stayed in the embassy voluntarily, then?"
"What do you know about 'Admiral Naismith' and his mercenaries?"