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"Yeah," says Little Miles, emboldened by his sister's agreement. "You still shouldn't be married to her."

"I'm married to her anyway," says Grownup Miles.

"Well... well stop!"

"Just like I should stop being twenty-five? I'll get right on that," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Get a divorce."

"I actually pretended to do that once, to save her from some people who wanted to kill me," says Miles. "They said they'd let her go if she got a divorce and promised not to rescue me. But it wasn't legally binding because Da wasn't there, and anyway we got rescued by other people before I could finish."

Little Miles is almost distracted by the impressiveness of this story.
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"And it wouldn't have worked anyway, because we are married twice."

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"Get two divorces," says Little Miles.

"Don't wanna," says Grownup Miles.

Little Miles is stumped by this unassailable argument.
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"Do you like it?" says Nika, morbidly fascinated.

"Yes. I do."

Nika seems to find that argument pretty unassailable.
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"Now, are we all done yelling about the weird things?"

"Are there any left?"

"Can't think of any," says Miles honestly. He feels that the exact occupation of Stalas, Mark, and Lalita upstairs is something his five-year-old self still wouldn't want to know even adjusting for his demand to be told all the things he won't like hearing. (And last Miles saw them, they appeared to be having a ticklefight anyway.)

"Then I guess I'm done yelling about them," says Little Miles. "Even though I didn't hardly."

"And now," says Grownup Miles, "you can go back to yelling at me about Strat-O." He makes a move.

Little Miles giggles. "Deal!"
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Nika puzzles something out. "This means both of you are married to my brothers."

"Well, yes, sort of," acknowledges Linya. "But -"

"I know, I know, I'm adopted. But who'm I going to marry?"

"You could skip it if you wanted, I imagine. Or find somebody else and then have to explain to a three-year-old you that it's okay."

Nika snorts.
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"Play a card," Tiny Ivan prompts Big Ivan.

Big Ivan plays a card.
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...Grownup Miles peers at Grownup Ivan.

"Hey, we're playing a game here!" says Little Miles. Grownup Miles returns his attention to said game.
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And so Big Ivan escapes having to prognosticate. He is probably wrong anyway!

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Nope. Big Ivan gets a pen message, sent from under the table: What?

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I accidentally thought about something.

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Oh no. Did it hurt? Your poor brain.

A scant second later: No but really though, what?
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Nika's question.

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Yes, and what did you think about Nika's question that was sufficient to distract you from your riveting game of Whirligig?

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Who's in our age range, not closely related, and an eerily plausible personality fit if you're ruled out, coz?

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Miles drops his pen and has to scramble for it under the table.
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I could easily be wrong! says a followup message on his pen by the time he's got it showing messages again. I just accidentally thought of it.

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Well, stop thinking of things.

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It was an accident! And then you asked! Repeatedly!

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I'm blaming you anyway, because it makes me feel better.

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Finest Vorkosigan tradition.

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Ivan returns his attention to whirligig with Tiny Ivan.

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Nika's grownups, meanwhile, are explaining the fine art of notebooking to her.

"Miles, do you think Simon will let Nika keep a pen if I give her one?"
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"Maybe. He'd definitely take it apart. The likelihood of there being some left over that still work afterward increases the more you send along."

"A pen? Like that thing you're writing notes under the table with?" says Little Miles.

"...Yes," says Grownup Miles.

"I want one too!"
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