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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
middlingalong
"Yeah. So here we are in this magic time traveling empty bar, but when I get out I'll let people know that you may exist - well, actually, first, to avoid looking like a moron if this is all some very elaborate misdirection of some kind, I'll see if there's a suspicious fellow by the name you supplied, but if there is I'll let people know. Assuming it doesn't spit me into, I don't know, Time of Isolation Barrayar or something, what with the time traveling."
The newly named Mark Pierre snorts.
"And if you're lucky we'll still be on the planet. Probably will, I think they've been based here for a while."
He has relaxed somewhat from his initial aggression, but still looks ready to bite someone or something at a moment's notice. When he unclenches his fists and rolls his shoulders, the collar of his T-shirt slips sideways, revealing part of what looks suspiciously like a shock-stick bruise.
"And if you're lucky we'll still be on the planet. Probably will, I think they've been based here for a while."
He has relaxed somewhat from his initial aggression, but still looks ready to bite someone or something at a moment's notice. When he unclenches his fists and rolls his shoulders, the collar of his T-shirt slips sideways, revealing part of what looks suspiciously like a shock-stick bruise.
"Huh?" He looks. "Oh. First escape attempt on the new planet. Didn't work." That nasty grin from earlier makes another appearance. "Better get this rescue right on the first try, cause if they figure out where you got your intel, I'm in for it."
middlingalong
"There is," says Ivan, "no way they will guess that we met in a time-traveling bar, but in any event I assure you Barrayar will be very interested in getting you away from the terrorists."
He snorts again. "Yeah, to kill me, I bet. Like the other kids in the clone crèche. Get the real Miles in a body with bones that don't snap like twigs. I don't mind, much. Still better than Ser Galen."
middlingalong
"Uh, I doubt that - not that it wouldn't be proposed, you understand, but that they'd go through with it. If nothing else Aunt Cordelia would raise a terrific fuss and Uncle Aral'd back her, doubt Miles would like the idea either. So there will be no brain transplant, but if somebody just thought you inconvenient - mmm, I can threaten to tell them all about it in the event you should be tragically lost in action, if you like."
"Sure," shrugs Mark. "Dunno why they'd care, but I don't mind not dying." He laughs. "Of course, it's been years between my now and yours. Maybe by the time you get there they've broken me already and you'll have to kill me."
middlingalong
"Well - let's hope not, all right? That would be a waste of a time traveling bar."
"It'll still save whoever I'm supposed to assassinate," he says. "Aral Vorkosigan, probably. Ser Galen hates him."
middlingalong
"Yes, but that could have been accomplished with much less overkill than 'time traveling bar'. One assumes."
"Not if you didn't know I was coming. Now you do."
middlingalong
"A note would've gotten me to look up this Galen fellow and maybe notice if he was - ordering outfits in suspicious sizes. A time traveling bar is only called for if I'm supposed to meet you before calling in the cavalry. Maybe I'm giving it too much credit, though."
"Maybe the time traveling bar was all they had. Whoever they are. Maybe it's a big coincidence. Maybe it's a setup and you're supposed to get killed trying to rescue me."
middlingalong
"You have a very morbid turn of mind, Mark. Were you n- no, of course you were not hugged enough as a child -"
"No shit," says Mark. "Who the hell's gonna hug me?"
middlingalong
"Well, I don't know about in your day to day life, but I'm pretty tempted."
Mark eyes him with mild suspicion.
"You'd be the first."
"You'd be the first."
He shrugs.
"I dunno. Not really something I think about. You can if you want, I guess."
"I dunno. Not really something I think about. You can if you want, I guess."
middlingalong
He's so little. Miles was little too, but that was before Ivan's growth spurt, so it wasn't as huge a difference.
Ivan picks him up and hugs him.
Ivan picks him up and hugs him.
Mark is tense at first, as though he expects Ivan to suddenly strangle him or throw him at a wall.
But when a few seconds pass and nothing bad happens, he goes from wary tension to clinging and silent tears in an instant.
But when a few seconds pass and nothing bad happens, he goes from wary tension to clinging and silent tears in an instant.
middlingalong
Hug, hug. Sway, sway. Poor kid's younger than he looks, even if he talks like he's older.
"I will figure out where you are, okay?" says Ivan. "Hell, I even have a relevant job description. I'll figure it out and come get you."
"I will figure out where you are, okay?" says Ivan. "Hell, I even have a relevant job description. I'll figure it out and come get you."
Mark responds to this assurance with a tiny sniffle.
middlingalong
The bar can time-travel. Going back and accomplishing that necessary task can wait a little bit while more hug is hugged.