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"And... adopted the basket baby," he guesses, "and that's how you wound up with a cousin Nika?"

How the hell does a baby in a basket show up on the doorstep of the Imperial fucking Residence without anyone finding out where it came from?
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"Yeah, that's how."

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"How about that. I've never gotten any relatives from baskets."

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"It seems to work okay," opines Tiny Ivan.

"So you like your cousin Nika," says Big Ivan.

"Yeah, she's pretty good."
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"How old is she?"

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"Almost four. Except we don't really know because of the basket part. But sort of almost four. Why're you so interested in Nika?"

"Well, she's the only Nika around, you see. We already know what Ivans and Mileses are like."

"Oh."
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"And," Miles adds, "she came from a basket. Almost nobody comes from a basket. Baskets are an interesting origin for a person to have."

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"It's not an interesting basket. She keeps toys in it."

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"It's a mysterious basket, if nobody knows where it came from before Nika showed up in it."

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"Oh. ...Do you want her basket? I don't know if she'd give you her basket."

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"I don't want her basket. She can keep her basket."

He might want the ImpSec report on her basket, but six-year-old Ivan is unlikely to be able to get him that either.
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"Okay," says Tiny Ivan.

Big Ivan sets up another round of whirligig. Tiny Ivan loses this one.

Tiny Ivan says, "If you want to know stuff about Nika I could just get her."
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"The garden is only temporarily missing. If you ran off to get her it might be here again when you came back, and we wouldn't be here anymore, because we're in this place and not in the garden."

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"Would she come if you yelled from the doorway?" Big Ivan inquires.

"Probably," says Tiny Ivan. "Should I yell for her?"

Big Ivan looks at Miles.
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"...sure," says Miles. "Okay."

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Tiny Ivan goes and opens the door. "NIKAAAAA," he calls. "COME SEE THIS THING."

"WHAT THING," calls back a girl's voice.

"IT'S JUST A THING, C'MERE."

"OKAY FINE JUST A SECOND."

Tiny Ivan waits patiently for somewhat longer than a second, and then in toddles a cute little Asian-looking girl. She trips on her way in.

"Where'd the garden go?"

"It's missing," says Tiny Ivan.

"Gardens don't go missing," says Nika. "They aren't socks. Who are these people?"

"They're named Ivan and Miles!" says Tiny Ivan. "And they're cousins, too!"

Nika squints at the people thusly named.
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"...hi, Nika," says Miles.

Somehow he suspects tiny Ivan's lack of curiosity is not going to hold here. (They aren't socks. Yes, this is an acceptable Vorkosigan sibling.)
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"I bet," says Nika, "that you are the one named Miles, aren't you."
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"You are right," says Miles. "How'd you guess?"

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"It wasn't hard. Are you a time traveler?"

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"N...o," he says. "Not personally, let's say. This place made part of my cousin Ivan's friend's house go missing the same way it made your garden go missing, and he got me to come look at it, and now here we are. But I know I can't be time-travelling from exactly your future because I never had a little sister, basketed or otherwise."

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"Oh."
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On reflection, he's not going to tell her that he's never particularly felt the lack.

"I do all right," he says instead, hoping this strikes the right balance of reassuring without insulting.
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"Who taught you how to walk?" she wonders.

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"I figured it out by myself," he says. "With some interference from my parents."

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